


Sweet, Sour, Salty, Bitter and Savoury

by JuHuaTai



Series: Val-Day fic [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Pre-Slash, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuHuaTai/pseuds/JuHuaTai
Summary: It took Marco only the first time he came in to notice him. It took Marco 2 days to hear the girl who was always with him calls him ‘Ace’.It took Marco an entire week to realize that even frowning and grimacing, he was still gorgeous, and more importantly, it took Marco over a week to realize that the plate of uneaten cakes that was always left behind by the two’s visit was always placed in front of the seat Ace had been sitting on.Or: An obligatory Valentine fic with an obligatory ‘You keep coming to my store to order cake and never eat it’ Bakery AU. Because cakes and fluff.EDIT: Epilogue





	1. Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> A valentine day fic! …Posted a couple of day early, i know.
> 
> But i wanted to make something for valentine, yet in a few days i’m going to go out of town for work for a couple of days and between preparation and work, i know i won’t be able to make it at all if i don’t start now. Also, i don't know whether or not the place i'm going to will have wi-fi, so here it is.
> 
> Hope you'd enjoy!

 

The strawberries that morning were particularly large and red, and Marco couldn’t help but stealing one from the washing tray to take a bite. He hummed low as the juice flows both inside of his mouth and dribbling down his finger, tasting the sweetness and the slight sourness undertones mingling together on his tongue. It’s the peak season for berries, and their supplier always sent the best for them for being a loyal costumer.

 

“Sanji,” he called out after taking another bit of the strawberry, finishing it entirely, “What do you think about making today’s cupcake of the day something strawberry themed? The shipment’s bigger than usual, we can use it for something other than the strawberry pie,”

 

The kitchen wasn’t quite big, but it wasn’t entirely small either. Marco waited for an entire 3 seconds before the man poked his head from behind the cooling fridge, carrying an entire crate full of creams and wet ingredients, “Ugh, you’re really clueless, aren’t you?” the younger blonde scoffed, dumping the entire crate behind his working station, where he had placed a tray of cooling pastries ready to be assembled into various treats, “Just cupcakes?! Think bigger, Marco! It’s nearly the season of love! The day of giving every lovely _mellorines_ that will walk through our jingling doors something as lovely as they are!”

 

Marco watched as Sanji did a little dance on the spot, eyes shining and near glittery at the thought of the majority of their costumer demographic lining up later. He glanced at the pastries on his working station to the ones on his own, “So, maybe add puddings too?”

 

“No, i mean everything! Everything coming out of this kitchen up to the day of love itself will be strawberry themed!”

 

It occurred to Marco then that perhaps the overflowing amount of strawberries in their kitchen wasn’t exactly a coincidence, but rather something of Sanji’s design. Still, he had proven himself to be quite proficient when it comes to the advertising and the gimmicky side of things, and Marco never question him. He’s not about to start now, “Oh, but the cream i made for our new Crepe Cake didn’t have any strawberries in them. You want me to redo them?”

 

Sanji only gave the progress of his work for the last 30 minutes a single glance, before he shook his head resolutely, “Absolutely not. We can add them to the presentation later, but right now, i’m really curious about what you have in mind,”

 

The Crepe Cake as a whole wasn’t some revolutionary concept, but their shop has never sold them, and if there is one thing Sanji Vinsmoke, the owner of _Mr. Prince Patisserie_ prides himself in, is creating the best and widest selection of cakes and pastries in the entire Raftel City. Marco proposed the idea of introducing this new item to their display only 2 days ago, and Sanji barely gave him enough time to try it out before he demanded to have it in his shop by mere description alone. Today is supposed to be its launching day.

 

Hours later found them placing finished cakes into the display case, as well as preparing plates, checking take away boxes and doughs for the next batch. Marco paused for a moment after he finished transferring his creation to the top of the display - right behind a small tag with a cute logo of the store and ‘NEW ITEM’ typed in bold letters - and hummed to himself in satisfaction. It didn’t look too bad for something he created for the first time, and judging by the smears still on the tip of his finger and inside of his nail, it also tasted pretty good.

 

Well, he supposed the costumer will be the judge of that.

 

It was barely 2 minutes after he walked out of the door to flip the ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign to ‘Yes, We Are Open’ when two high school age girls came walking in, giggling to themselves after politely greeting him. Marco watched from the front window as Sanji suddenly made himself available, presentable and ready to serve in a matter of seconds when the girls came in, grinning from ear to ear while doing that little dance of his. It looked so bizarre the first time Marco saw him do that, but after 2 years working with him, he got used to it.

 

The man paused from his cleaning of the display blackboard in his hand, staring emptily to the chalkboard smeared surface. 2 years. Has it been that long now? 

 

Has it been that long since…

 

“Um, excuse me?”

 

Marco wasn’t sure how long he spaced out, but he felt a little poke to his shoulder and turned to find curious eyes staring up at him. He looked back down to the blackboard, and saw that he had done nothing else but made a bigger chalk smear all over the surface. He’s going to have to clean this up before he can write down today’s special, “Good morning, Usopp,” he greeted the newcomer, fishing out the rag hanging out of his back pocket to start wiping, “It’s a little early, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to come in for another 15 minutes,”

 

The long nosed boy sighed desolately at that, grumbling slightly, “I know, but Luffy burned his toast again this morning and the alarm woke up everyone on my floor. I can’t go back to sleep so i thought i might as well leave to work early,”

 

With the success of the patisserie comes a steady flow of costumer that can’t be handled by only two people, and it wasn’t long ago when Sanji decided to employ one of his friend as a waiter and barista. Usopp can make coffee down to an art style, and clumsy as he may be, he’s a hard worker and that seems to be all the blonde patissier ever asked out of his employees. 

 

Said barista glanced towards the blackboard in his hand, “So uh, why were you staring at that?”

 

Ah, right, “Oh, i was just thinking of what to put to attract attention for our special today. But i find out that i’m not really good at coming up with that sort of things,” he lied smoothly, so much that Marco himself forgot that he wasn’t telling the entire truth. It came so naturally to him nowadays, especially when it was easier from the alternative, “But now that you’re here, maybe you can do it instead? Costumers loved your drawings,”

 

“Ooh, it’s the Crepe Cake, isn’t it? Sanji told me all about it!” Usopp said as he glanced inside of the store, perhaps trying to locate said cake, “He said you came up with your own recipe, and that it sounded really amazing,”

 

That piqued Marco’s interest, and make a small, amused smile bloom on his lips. Sanji had a near aversion to praising anyone of the male gender, so it was rather amusing to hear that he would say it behind Marco’s back, “Is that so? I hope i can meet his expectations, then,”

 

Usopp snorted, “You always did, Marco, you know that. And we’re really glad about this, you know?”

 

“Glad? Why?”

 

“That you started taking some initiative, and you sounded excited about this. We’re glad that you’re getting be—“ Suddenly, Usopp’s jaw dropped and his eyes were blown wide open, before he started suddenly flailing in panic, “I-i mean, w-w-we-we’re glad that you…’re getting better at pulling your weight around here! Ha, but not as much as the great Usopp, Master of latte arts and world champion espresso brewer! Did i ever tell you about that time i was blessed by the coffee god as a thank you for saving his coffee beans citizens?”

 

If there is one thing Marco know about Usopp, is that the more outrageous his tales and lies become, the more panicky he was on the inside. It was funny, really, if it wasn’t sobering at the same time. Still, Marco let out a chuckle, as he handed the blackboard and chalk to the young boy, who took it away from him, “Didn’t you say just last week that the coffee god was a bad guy because he was the one who made the mess on the kitchen floor and it was definitely not you accidentally spilling half a bag of roasted coffee?”

 

He laughed a little louder as Usopp stammers to find a new excuse to correlate the two stories and making it that there are two coffee gods who are good and bad. As soon as curly haired boy left to walk inside however, Marco watched him approaching the counter hurriedly to where Sanji was, and felt his smile faltering.

 

“Look at that, you made little kids worry over you,” he muttered to himself, running his hand down his face, “Pathetic, Marco. Quite pathetic,”

 

* * *

 

The rush of incoming costumers always picked up during noon, and that was when the three of them were the busiest.

 

When the crowd died down, and the current of costumers coming in and out became something much more manageable, Marco would find himself glancing to the display case and become amazed. They had 3 large display cases and a smaller one for dry treats, and within the span of a couple of hours after opening, what was previously a full display always depleted down to only a couple of slices left here and there. He specifically remembered replenishing some of their more popular cakes at least 4 times and found that the display tray for those cakes has been given an ‘OUT OF STOCK’ sign.

 

He watched as Usopp took the last bag of Tangerine Florentine to give it to a costumer. They prepared 5 large batches for today, and including that last one, that’s 5 batch sold. He turned his gaze towards the middle display, and blinked. 

 

“Huh,” he said lowly under his breath, “There’s only one slice of Crepe Cake left,”

 

There’s a pat on his shoulder, followed by a faint scent of mint cigarettes fleeting into his senses, “Of course! It was a smash hit! Lovely _mellorines telling_ me that it was like cloud in their mouth, so fluffy and sweet! Oh, but i’m sure it wasn’t as sweet as all of the beauties here,” he claimed in a louder tone, gesturing to the crowd in the dining area. Some girls waved to their general direction, because they are loyal costumers who are used to Sanji’s antics, and the rest stared in confusion.

 

One of the waving girl walked over, orange hair cascading down her back as she purposefully swayed her hips - purposefully because Marco learned from Usopp that they usually don’t do that - and clearly hypnotising Sanji with every move before she leaned over to the countertop behind the cashier machine, “That cake was sooo amazing!” Nami, the orange haired girl exclaimed with a smile, “Sanji said it was your idea, isn’t it, Marco?”

 

The blonde smiled warily at her. He knew what’s coming, “I did,”

 

“I loved it! It was sooo good! And Sanji, you’re so smart for putting it on the menu, i’m sure many people will love it!” the smile turned sharp, and there’s a glint in her eyes as Sanji almost flew over to her, practically drooling over the praise, “And since i liked it so much, do you think i can get a free sample—“

 

As Usopp would sometimes say: Whoomp, there it is.

 

“Of course, Nami-swaaan!”

 

“No,”

 

Sanji’s expression turned from lovestruck to enraged in a matter of seconds, while Nami’s face fell, “Aww, i knew i should’ve waited until you left,”

 

“Nami-swan, ignore this big bully, yes you can have it for free—“

 

But Marco was firm on his decision - even if his boss wasn’t, “No, not this time. I’m sorry, Nami, but i’ll make you an extra one tomorrow if you really wanted it,” and not because you think you can slip a freebie from Sanji, he thought silently. Again, “But right now, i don’t want that last piece to be sold just yet,”

 

Nami and Sanji glanced to each other questioningly, while Marco looked down to his watch, something he had been doing since the rush was over and he realized thow late it has become, just to make sure that he was right on time. Yes, he was. It should be any minute now.

 

As if on cue, the doorbell suddenly rang, signalling an incoming costumer. Marco immediately lifted his head.

 

“Hi, hi!” the newcomer, Koala, greeted, her every bounce making her short skirt dance around her thigh. She made her way to the counter in a confident stride that told of habit and familiarity to their shop, “Ah, thank goodness there’s still some cakes left! Dragon’s working me to the bones today, i’d just die if i don’t get my daily dose of sweets,”

 

Dragon was a prominent politician from their city who served as mayor this term and is in the middle of a campaign to win the next, and Koala was one of his assistant and core employee. It rather surprised him the first time he saw her calling out his name so casually until he learned who she is. Along with Sanji’s ragtag group of friends - one of them being Mayor Dragon’s son, Luffy - she was one of the more permanent fixtures around this place.

 

But Koala, sweet as she was, wasn’t the one Marco was waiting for.

 

It was the man who followed suit after her entrance.

 

Unlike her cheery greeting, he came in as quiet as a dormouse as always, shuffling close behind her until they reached the counter. As Koala began rattling off her order to a peppy and jolly Sanji, Marco turned his attention to him, “Good evening, Ace,”

 

Ace glanced up and stare at him for a while, before mumbling back with a little nod, “E-evening,”

 

The very first time Marco saw him had been a rainy day, nearly 2 months ago. Ace and Koala was caught in the harsh downpour, and the first cover they found was the dimly lit place that was their shop. Sanji, ever the gentlemen who cannot resist helping a woman in need, allowed Koala to stay until the rain stopped, and even gave her a slice of his cakes and had Usopp made her a hot drink. Of course, his courtesy only stopped on the female half of the pair, which means that it was up to Marco to help Ace.

 

He didn’t know what his name was back then, much less anything else, but even drenched, Marco could see that he was fairly attractive. The way he scowled at Sanji’s retreating form after being informed that the dry towel was only for the lady was amusing at best and worrying at worst. At the time, Marco had thought that he was displeased to see a man obviously hitting on his girlfriend, until he learned that Ace was just genuinely pissed off for being left dripping wet.

 

Sanji took to regaling Koala about the patisserie as they waited, allowing her to try the variety of cakes that they have left - which is probably a bad thing to do, but at least this way he won’t have to finish them because Sanji refused to throw food away - while constantly having poor Usopp fill her empty cup. That left Ace and Marco sitting by to silently observe the scene, only glancing at each other every now and then, pick up a few conversation here and there and smiling whenever their eyes met.

 

The rain stopped after about half an hour, and after they left that night, he hadn’t expected to see them again, and thought that it was quite the shame. Maybe he should’ve chatted the young man a bit more.

 

The very next day, Koala and Ace walked in during a sunny day, with Koala loudly proclaiming that she wanted the cakes she had yesterday again.

 

And that was when things started getting a little unusual.

 

Marco cuts his own reminiscing short, when he saw that Ace was looking interestedly at the display case in front of him. Specifically to the direction of the only slice of Crepe Cake left, “What would you like for today?”

 

He watched Ace’s eyebrow shot up in surprise, like he had forgotten than Marco was standing in front of him, “O-oh! Uh…,” he mumbled, meeting Marco’s eyes for only a couple of seconds before looking back at the cake, “That’s… new, right?”

 

“It is,” There’s a little leap on his chest as he replied, when he realized that he was right about Ace paying special attention to his first creation. He couldn’t help but to add, albeit in slightly lowered volume, realizing the brashness in his next action, “I, uh, made it myself. It’s my own recipe, i mean,”

 

Despite feeling like a kid who needs approval and having a sinking feeling he’s embarrassing himself right now, Marco was relieved when he saw that he obviously had the young man interested. Ace kept his silent observation for a moment, and after a few seconds, he finally pointed to the direction of the cake.

 

A smile grew on Marco’s face, as he slide the display’s door open, “Alright, one Crepe Cake coming right up,”

 

From the corner of his eyes, Marco saw Usopp reacting first, glancing between him and Ace with a skeptical look on his eyes. From his other side, he could see Nami frowning before sneaking quickly behind Ace to where the barista stood, before they began whispering amongst themselves. He ignored them, lifting the tray along with the last slice of cake on it, and making his way to the kitchen.

 

Usually, when it comes to decorating plate, all Marco had to do was follow Sanji’s instruction on how things are to be done. Left on his own devices and taking initiative like this was unlike him, and it wasn’t until he realized he had spent a while only lifting bowls of strawberries and a can of whip cream that it occurred to Marco this may be a bad idea.

 

Still, he need this to work this time.

 

With his mind made up, the blonde ran through every design he ever had to make under Sanji’s guidance, and started off by placing the cake in the middle of the plate and lifting a piping bag filled with whip cream, probably a leftover from their short cakes. He gave each 3 little swirling design on the end arch of the cake, delicate and small, but not so small they wont support a piece of cut strawberries, which he added right away. Fishing out a large, uncut strawberry away from the washed and unused pile, he then made a bigger whip cream swirl in the middle of the cake before placing the entire strawberry on it. Once he was sure they won’t topple, he grabbed a bowl of glaze and painted it over the large strawberry to make it looks shiny and appetizing.

 

One Marco was satisfied with the top of the cake, he moved to the plate itself, giving one side of the cake a zig-zagging drizzle of chocolate, piling more uncut strawberries on one end and, after much fishing, placed a small stem of mint on the other end. He stared at the plate, stared long and hard, before deciding to meticulously brush the small strawberries with glaze as well.

 

When the man’s finally glad with the end product, Marco took a step back, and suppressed a smile from appearing on his face. He’s nowhere near Sanji’s level in dessert presentation, but even he can’t help but be a little proud by how this one turns out.

 

“Hey, you’ve been in there for quite a while, what are you do—“ Sanji’s words faltered along with his approaching footsteps. Marco could see him from the reflective glass in the kitchen, standing by the kitchen entrance with gaping mouth and staring wide eyed. 

 

Shoot, he had planned to slip outside before Sanji noticed him gone. He must’ve been working on this for longer than he think, “Uh, just… plating an order?”

 

“Plating an order?! You look like you’re trying to win a competition or something,” The younger blonde exclaimed, moving to his side to take a closer look, “Huh, you’ve really improved on your—The Crepe Cake? I thought you said you’re not selling it—“

 

“I have to go, i’ve made costumers wait for too long,” He lifted the plate carefully, making sure none of the decoration faltered and slipped by past Sanji before the other could ask him any more questions.

 

When he brought the plate back outside, Ace and Koala were already seated on their usual seat near the window overlooking outside, chatting quietly between themselves. At one point, Ace buried his face in the crook of his arms as Koala rolled her eyes, looking like she was really exasperated by something. As he approached, he could hear her speaking in an irate tone, something about how ‘he’s not usually this shy’ and that ‘it’s such a waste, you could just give it to me instead’. Ace, in return, insisted to her that he can’t and he won’t.

 

“Here you go,” Marco announced after a few seconds as to not interrupt their conversation, placing the plate right in front of Ace gently so that the bottom would make a near inaudible thudding, “One Crepe Cake,”

 

There’s a small, almost surprised gasp coming from Koala, but Marco was too immersed with Ace’s expression. His eyes widened at the sight of his plate, with his mouth opened a little to form a small, silent o. The reaction made him think that he may have gone a little bit too overboard, so after placing down the utensils, he almost scurried away to the back of the counter, nearly colliding with Usopp and a tray of steaming mugs.

 

As soon as he was back in the safety that was the staff only side of the counter, Marco leaned back against Usopp’s drink-assembling station and tried not to look too obvious in his waiting. For a moment, the people on that particular table barely moved, though he could see Koala’s mouth moving while she was alternating between looking at the cake and Ace. Ace, on the other hand, was still as a board, eyes downcast and the angle of his head making his hair curtain around his eyes, blocking Marco’s vision.

 

The dark haired male lifted the fork out of the meticulous tissue wrap arrangement, and like always whenever his food was delivered to his table, began poking the sides of the cake. The movement was small and hesitant, less about curiousity and more wariness. It was as if he was treating the cake like it was something alien and unnatural. Marco never understood what he’s trying to achieve from that.

 

But before he could observe any longer, the doorbell rings and out of any possible time that day, a teenager dressed in school uniform ran in, looking frazzled, “E-excuse me, i’m sorry, but do you still have any chocolate tart left?!” he loudly exclaimed, and started tugging on to some loose golden strands from his ponytail when he saw from the display that no, they don’t have any left, “Fuck, okay, w-what about the Devil’s food cake? Or Chocolate Napoleon? Or that other weird named chocolate one— Gah! I can’t remember! Please, you have to help me! I promised Coby i’ll meet him 15 minutes ago but i got too caught up on the arcade and he’s not going to forgive me unless i bring him his favorite dessert!”

 

The boy was near tears by now - something that Marco can still miraculously see despite the odd visor he had on - and he didn’t need to turn to the direction of the kitchen that Sanji prefers washing the dishes of the previous group of women than handling him. With a sigh, Marco left his watching spot and made his way over to the boy.

 

Helping the frustrated boy took longer than it needs to be, because he decided that even late, he still nitpick over every suggestion. It was only after Marco reminded him that he’s already really late that the boy panicked again, and ended up buying every chocolate based cakes they had left that afternoon. He could only hope that with the speed he went, the cakes won’t get crushed by the time he met up with his friend.

 

“Please come back again,” As soon as the door was closed and the ringing doorbell faded along with the end of his half-hearted greeting, Marco shifted his gaze back to Ace and Koala’s table. The moment he caught sight of it, he sighed heavily, “Goddamit,”

 

The two was long gone, and on top of the now empty and vacated table, the Crepe Cake sat untouched.

 

* * *

 

Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t completely untouched. The strawberry in the middle of the cake was missing, and the chocolate drizzle was slightly smeared.

 

Not that it made any difference. The cake itself was left the way it was when he first placed on the plate.

 

“The nerve of him!” Sanji exclaimed, not for the first time since Marco brought the plate back to the kitchen and even well after they’re closed and started cleaning up, “Always wasting food like this, i should’ve banned him from the premises! I hate food wasters!”

 

Is what he always says, but it’s been well over 2 months and whenever the pair came by, Sanji would be too busy swooning and simpering over Koala to notice Ace and make good of his threat. In fact, he never seems to notice any male costumer and it was always up to Marco to serve them even if he was busy in the back to prepare a new batch. Between that sort of attitude and his tendency to give away free cakes to every girl that bats her eyelids at him, the bakery would’ve gone to the dogs if Sanji was left to his own accord. 

 

Marco sighed, staring forlornly back at the cake.

 

Ever since that second time Ace came by, he would order a different cake each day, yet none of them would be consumed in the end. It was bizarre - and somewhat a personal insult to Sanji, apparently - and left Marco endlessly confused and curious. Why would anyone order something if they’re not going to eat it?

 

At first, he thought that maybe because they all weren’t to his liking, which was fair. As popular as their store is, they can’t please everyone. But after a few days in, Marco began to notice that it didn’t even seem like Ace even tasted any of his orders. Every time he looked, the dark haired man would only be staring at his plate, sometimes grimacing, sometimes looking sad, and while there has been a few times Marco caught him lifting up his fork, in the end, he would only fiddled with the utensil before putting it back.

 

A couple of days ago, he also realized something else: Ace has already ordered everything they had in their store at least once, every cake, cupcakes and even ever cookies, and they all ended up with the same fate of being neglected on that empty table and would probably be eaten by Usopp by the end of the day.

 

There’s a pit of discomfort in Marco’s stomach as a stray thought entered his mind. Ace had nearly gone through all of their collection and found none of them to be to his liking. Would that mean that once he ordered everything they had, he would stop coming? He barely knew the young man, and up to this point, they had only exchanged a few words between each other before Marco was left tongue tied. And yet, the prospect of Ace never coming in to the bakery again was daunting.

 

It was why he had suggested the Crepe Cake to Sanji in the first place. He thought that maybe if he can make something new and thus giving him something else to offer and try, Ace will keep coming back.

 

It was a childish and irrational thought, Marco knew, but he can’t help but entertain it anyway.

 

As Sanji continues to rant - this time around his rant has turned into scolding Marco for indulging in Ace’s odd behaviour and therefore is involved in wasting food - Usopp sneaked into the kitchen and stared longingly at the plate next to Marco. The blonde sighed and gave it to him, earning himself a happy ‘thank you’ from the long nosed barista. He watched as Usopp considered the plate, then deciding to cut a small piece from the front and carefully scooping all of the layers before shoving it into his mouth. The form had only left his mouth with a pop when his eyes bulged, “Holy shit, this is so good!”

 

“Of course it taste good, Usopp, Marco made it! Him, who was taught by two great chefs! Even i want to lick that plate clean! Did he not see how lucky he was to get the last slice?!” their employer groaned in frustration, tapping the front of his lips with his fingers. It was a habit of his that tells people that he needed to smoke, but unfortunately they’re still in the process of cleaning and Sanji has a high standard for his establishment, even if it means he himself won’t be able to smoke inside, “If Thatch was still here, he’d agree with me—“

 

Suddenly, there’s silence. Silence, and the unmistakable hitch in Marco’s breath.

 

Sanji faltered, both in his body language and his expression, realizing his mistake a little too late. Next to Marco, Usopp was silent, cheeks still puffed out from the content inside and he chewed so slowly, as if afraid that moving any faster would add to the thick atmosphere. 

 

After a moment, Sanji ran one hand through his fringe, briefly uncovering his other eye, “I’m so sorry, Marco,” he said quietly, “I shouldn’t have—“

 

Marco wished he hadn’t, but that would be him following the surprisingly immature part of himself. Trying to smile was hard, especially with the heavy weight in his chest, but he did it anyway, “It’s fine, Sanji, you don’t have to keep tip-toeing around me. None of you have to,” he gave Usopp a glance as well, even if there’s only the three of them in the kitchen, “It’s been 2 years, it’s not as hard anymore,”

 

That’s a damn lie, because it was still hard. He still sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and in the verge of crying because of the remnants of his nightmare, a dream that was more a memory than anything his mind can come up with in his sleep. His family has given him endless support in order to help and pushing him to get help, but again, it’s been 2 long years and it felt like nothing has changed. 

 

He sighed, trying to quell the pain in his chest, “Besides, he was your friend too, Sanji. I know you missed him too,”

 

“Well, yeah, but—” Sanji began to retort, but suddenly quieted down. Marco could see that he wasn’t exactly looking at his direction but at Usopp next to him, who shook his head in a small and almost unseen gesture. After a while, Sanji sighed wearily, eyes still glum as he spoke, “Hey, isn’t it the day after tomorrow?”

 

Marco nodded, quiet and subdued, “Hm,”

 

“Well, Reiju offered to fill in like last year. Anything to get her out of the house and away from dear old Dad,” he paused, and there’s a small smile on his face as he continued, “Well, her and Charlotte Pudding. We met again recently and she told me she needed another job if she wanted to move out of her mother’s house soon. I offered her one and she’s coming tomorrow, so maybe i can start training her then. Besides, I’ve been thinking of hiring a waiter around here, since we’re getting busier by the day and don’t have enough hand to man the cashier and the floor at the same time.” 

 

The change of topic was deliberate, there’s no doubt in Marco’s mind, but right now, he was just glad for the thoughtfulness as Usopp spoke, “You’re giving a job here for your ex?”

 

Sanji scoffed, “I will always help a lady in need. Besides, we’re not really exes, are we? Our families wanted us to marry against our will, and now that we could care less about them, we went our own ways,” His eyes began to sparkle, and as Usopp’s expression turned sour, Marco knew that they both know what’s coming, “Ah, can you imagine? Having a beautiful woman in this shop will be a refreshing change compared to always looking at your sorry mugs. Why do i only keep hiring guys anyway, i need to hire more lovely _mellorines_! Nami-swan said she’s also looking for a job, i can certainly pay to hire someone else!”

 

“Nami’s going to ask you to raise her wage by 3 times more than anyone else’s,”

 

“I don’t care! She certainly earned it!”

 

“She’s not even working here yet!”

 

As the two continued to bicker and Sanji began to chase Usopp around the kitchen with the threat of kicking him once he gets his hands on him, Marco shifted his gaze to the unfinished plate of cake Usopp left during the ruckus. He lifted the fork on the side and took a bite, tasting the moist and thin pancake smothered by sweet cream, mingling together with strawberry and whip cream.

 

“It’s good,”

 

* * *

 

“But i guess it just wasn’t good enough,”

 

The thick cooking book in his hand was a little dusty, but then again, it’s been 2 years since it was unearthed, much less used. It was old, compared to the stack of newer looking cooking books that was strewn all over his coffee table for the past couple of days, and it was less a list of recipes and more a big dictionary that helps beginners to cook properly, even if some of the things taught was pretty old-school, some even can be done now fairly easily with new technologies. 

 

Still, the book had been Thatch’s proud and joy, a birthday gift from Pops that he was so proud of and had helped him a lot before. Marco still remembered coming home to find him perusing over the book intently, making notes despite Marco being sure that he remembered the entire book’s content from cover to cover. He would always say that even the greatest cooks needs basic reminders every now and then, and this book is excellent in doing just that.

 

Marco sighed, placing the book back on his lap. So far, he had found nothing new, and he told Sanji that by tomorrow, he’s going to come up with something else. 

 

He turned to his side, at the small table by his sofa. An old photograph of him, Thatch, and his two other brothers, Jozu and Vista stared back at him, taken from an event years ago that he barely remembered it anymore. Marco and Thatch was right in the middle, slinging each other’s arms around the other’s shoulders and seems to be laughing raucously, looking like they’re having the time of their lives.

 

“What do you think Ace was looking for, Thatch?” he asked towards the photograph, as if he was expecting it to answer the way Thatch would have. One of the psychiatrist told him that this was not a healthy coping mechanism that hinders him from getting better. Marco told that psychiatrist to fuck off and never came in for another consultation, “He ate the strawberry, so maybe he liked fruity cakes more? Then again, he ordered a strawberry shortcake a couple of weeks ago, and that also went uneaten,”

 

And there’s no telling he was even the one who ate the strawberry. Maybe Koala did.

 

Ah, if only he wasn’t distracted at the time.

 

With another sigh, Marco lifted the book back up and adjusted his glasses. 

 

“I’ll find it one day. I’ll find something he’d like to eat,”

 


	2. Sour, Salty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand a little later than i told you all i would update, but here i am! Blame my ideas, okay?! They keep popping up and i need to keep fixing or adding and now i'm over 6k when it's supposed to be far shorter!
> 
> Anyways, i hope you'd enjoy!

 

“You look a little tired,”

 

‘A little’ may be an understatement. It’s barely 2 hours to closing time and Marco could already feel his eyes flickering close every time he as much as stopped moving, and he felt so sluggish, he wasn’t surprised when Sanji, Usopp and even Pudding, who just started today, commented that he’s dragging his feet the entire day. He had forgone sleep, after all, in favour of planning out the cake now displayed behind the ‘NEW ITEM’ card on the display. 

 

The Crepe Cake from yesterday, true to Sanji’s words, has been made into a permanent item in their store, and he already apologized to at least a dozen of disappointed costumers because they’re sold out within 2 hours. His ever-chivalrous employer berated him for not making more for the day, claiming that he hated disappointing ladies after ladies and could only hope that the free cupcakes he offered them as a consolation would be enough for them.  After he was done, Marco was left both wondering if he was only imagining the subtle praise in that long spiel, and slightly concerned by Sanji’s business practices.

 

But just like the Crepe Cake, his new creation for the day seems to receive the same amount of positive feedback, judging by the fact that again, there’s only one slice left. Someone had tried to buy the slice earlier, two of them, if he counted the rather miffed girl that poor Usopp had to handle, and Marco settled by sneaking the slice away to keep it cool in the kitchen’s fridge while Sanji’s back was turned and only took it out and back to the display again once he was sure Ace could come on at any minute. 

 

If he’s allowed to give just about everyone free stuff, then Marco reserving something for a favored costumer shouldn’t be a big deal.

 

Marco stifled the yawn he knew was coming, and instead faked it out as a sigh as he smiled weakly at Ace’s concerned tone. It’s quite rare that Ace would be the one to initiate a conversation, and it was even rarer still that their first word to each other wasn’t just a simply ‘Good evening’, “Ah, sorry about that. It’s been quite a long day. I guess words have spread that we have a new item and the store’s a bit more packed than usual,”

 

Not that he knows how words spread that fast. Nami and Usopp once tried to explain to him that it was mostly the power of social media, but the concept of people following or you announcing through your daily life was not easy for Marco to quite accept or understand. All that he knows is that _Mr. Prince Patisserie_ does have some social pages that was run by Sanji and Usopp, which explains why sometimes the barista would be hanging around the displays and taking pictures. 

 

Ace still had that concerned frown on his face - and Marco hoped that his fatigue hides the little bubbling happiness over the attention - and seemed like he was about to say something else when Koala called him out from the cashier’s area to tell him that she’d be looking for a seat first if he still wanted to chat for longer. The strawberry blonde girl then gave Marco a meaningful wink - although he’s quite unsure as to what the wink was supposed to mean - before walking away, ignoring Ace’s spluttering her name.

 

“Ugh, Sabo’s right, she’s the worst sometimes,” the raven haired male muttered under his breath, turning his focus on to the display case again, as he had been doing before Marco came by. There’s a light flush on his cheeks, that seems to reddened when he peeked up at Marco from behind the tressed that fell in front of his eyes, “Umm, you have a new cake again today?”

 

Marco nodded, turning his gaze to the cake, “Yes. It’s a Chamomile tea infused cake with honey and vanilla frosting. The tea gave it a rather aromatic smell,”

 

They already had a tea-infused cake in the shop, which was Sanji’s Earl Grey Infusion with Lavender Buttercream, which, just like most of the treats they sold, was often rich with cream and had strong flavours. His Crepe Cake yesterday had been more or less the same - after all, Sanji had been the one who taught him - and Marco was beginning to think maybe that was Ace’s entire issue with their cakes.  

 

With that in mind, he had tried to create something a little more gentle and light, but could still hold some significant taste. It was mostly inspired by one of his brothers, as chamomile with honey was actually Izou’s favorite down time drinks, and whenever he would visit, the entire apartment would ended up smelling like it. The natural sweetness of honey boosted chamomile’s more subtle flavor, and with a layer of vanilla meringue, it would give the cake a creamy and fluffy texture.

 

He had tried his best to do a better and less boring decoration today too, and with Sanji’s guidance, managed to decorate the initial full cake with flower fondants decoration that resembled the flower the tea came from. Of course, instead of just a single large flower in between two smaller ones, the slice Marco had saved up was a little bit more extravagant. He had added in decorative sprigs with a pile of crumbles to make it look like the flower really bloomed out of the cake, and should he really succeed in having Ace pick it, there’s already a plate back on the kitchen that was preemptively decorated with a smear of honey and a couple more fondants.

 

Marco is highly aware that Sanji already found the plate, judging by the glares he could feel on the back of his nape, and he knew he would’ve disassembled Marco’s hard work if Pudding hadn’t taken it away from him.

 

Ace cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed and lips turning into a little moue, looking like he was quite confused, “So like, the cake tasted like tea?”

 

“In a way, yes,”

 

The freckled male bit his lower lips, staring contemplatively at the cake for a while before he muttered lowly, “Tea, i guess i can work with tea?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“N-never mind,” his stance turned demure, as he pointed to the cake, “I’ll… i’ll take one,”

 

If Marco could celebrate - or have the energy to, he would do that now.

 

* * *

 

“Hey you! You didn’t even eat your cake!”

 

The angry shouting immediately attracted the attention of everyone inside of the store, and even sending Sanji out from the store room in a hurry. Marco’s attention was quickly shifted away from the costumer he had been serving to the source of the voice, already knowing what might have caused it before he even saw the scene as a whole.

 

True enough, Pudding, though short and supposedly unthreatening, was glaring in such a chilling manner at Ace and Koala’s direction, who was making their way out of the door. She looked furious, her two pigtails bobbing along as she stomped over to the door and pulled a startled Ace by his collar, “Sanji hates people who waste food! Why would you waste his food in his property, huh?!”

 

“I-i…,”

 

“Pudding, let go of him,”

 

If Ace already looked embarrassed while being screamed at by copper haired waitress in front of so many people, the mortified look on his face when he saw Marco quickly approaching them was beyond description. He looked like he wanted to bolt out as soon as he can, but even as Pudding let go of him, he still stood on his ground, even if he hung his head low, as if he didn’t want to look at Marco in the eye.

 

Marco was distracted away from him when his new co-worker whirled around at him, face pulled into a rather scary expression. He had thought of her to be rather sweet when she was first introduced this morning, but as the day went by, he began to wonder if she had a double personality. The face that made such a shining smile this morning could not be the one who was now shooting daggers at him, “What do you mean, let him go?! You know Sanji hates people wasting food, Marco! How dare he not lick the plate clean—“

 

“Enough, Pudding,” he grounded with the most assertive tone he can muster, immediately quieting her down. Once he was sure she won’t protest any further, he turned to Ace again, and gave him and Koala a smile, “Thank you for your constant patronage. I hope to see you come back again soon,”

 

Koala, who looked equally as angry as Pudding was the first to react, her frown melting away to a tight smile, “Yeah. We’ll see you soon, Marco. Thanks as always,” she placed a hand on Ace’s arm, tugging it slightly, “Come on, Ace, we promised to meet up with Sabo and Luffy in an hour,”

 

Ace hardly reacted, but he lifted his head high enough to allow Marco to see the guilt-ridden expression on his face. His knuckles are turning white with how hard he was clenching his hand, as he whispered out, “I’m sorry, Marco,”

 

Marco could only give him a smile, one that he hoped was good enough to tell Ace that there is nothing to forgive, “I’ll see you soon, Ace,”

 

With one last tug, he finally followed Koala out of the door. But until he disappeared in the middle of the crowded street outside, Marco’s eyes never left him, just as Ace never looked away from him.

 

A stomp in front of him broke the blonde man out of his reverie, and he turned to, sure enough, be faced with Pudding’s aggravated face, “Why are you letting them go that easily?! He’s wasting food! You know Sanji hates it!”

 

He sighed, a sudden sense of weariness settling on his bones, but nevertheless still gave the girl a smile as he walked over to the recently vacated table to help her clean it. By now everyone has looked away from the spectacle, probably in fear that Pudding will shift her wrath at them. Really, Marco still couldn’t believe the amount of anger contained in that small body, “Well, regardless, we always have leftovers by the end of the day. Sanji would usually give them away or,” he lifted Ace’s untouched plate, noting that the one of the fondant flower was tipped off. He gestured it to Usopp who was cowering on the corner while pretending he wasn’t listening in, “I’ll give it to Usopp. I’m sure he won’t waste it,”

 

One of the fondant on the plate rolled over, turning up side down.

 

Marco sighed, chuckling weakly, “I didn’t think it was going to work today, either,”

 

* * *

 

“What is wrong with him?! Why would he left that guy get away and even welcome him to come again! Ugh, if i see him again, i’m going to stab the hell out of—“

 

“Ah, Pudding, _mellorine_ , your defense against my creations and principles are indeed astounding and inspiring,” there’s a pause, and the next time Sanji spoke, his tone was a lot less awestruck and a bit more somber, “But i’m afraid for this one case, there is no helping it. I’m just glad that by the end of the day, no food would be wasted,”

 

“B-but, Sanji! He’s refusing to eat your cake!”

 

“Well, technically speaking,” Usopp’s words were rather hard to hear, since he sounded like he was trying to talk and eat at the same time, “This is Marco’s cake,”

 

“But that’s even worse! He’s literally defending the person who wasted his effort!”

 

Marco would like to come into the kitchen then and told Pudding that he wasted nothing, much less effort. Ace’s behaviour left him with a sense of curiousity, and even if each failure always makes him feel frustrated, there is also that determination inside of Marco that made him want to keep trying until he found what exactly is it that Ace was looking for in a dessert. As if there is a big prize waiting for him should he be able to solve this particular puzzle.

 

It felt like it drove him mad, but at the same time it made him feel alive. Excited.

 

He hadn’t felt anything like this since…

 

“So this has been happening for a long time?! But why? Why would that guy do that?”

 

“Shh! He’s right outside right now, keep your voices down!”

 

“Who knows, maybe Ace is as incomprehensible as his brother and it’s a family trait of sorts,” Sanji scoffed, “Then again, i believe Luffy told me something before. Something about Ace being—“

 

“Sanji, i’m done with counting the cashier and cleaning the front. Do you need me to do anything else?”

 

It was almost comical how the three jumped at his voice, and none of them could move quickly enough to establish a natural pose. Marco kept his amusement to himself, in an effort to keep them from knowing that he had been listening in the entire time, “O-oh! No, no, it’s fine, we’re fine here, Marco,” the blonde stammered, giving him a shaky grin, “You can leave the rest and leave early, i’d like to teach Pudding some of our more complicated systems,”

 

Well, whether it was a lie or not, Marco was already dead on his feet and he can’t wait to sleep. He gave them all a good bye, yet before he left, he heard Sanji called for him, “Yes?”

 

The patissier was quiet for a moment, before he finally spoke, “Send my regards to him. I’ll see you when you get back,”

 

The mood suddenly shifted inside of the kitchen. Marco gave him a nod and a thank you, grabbing his stuff and walked out of tshe kitchen.

 

He stood in front of the kitchen door to adjust his bag’s strap, long enough to hear Pudding’s much lower, muffled voice, “When he get back? Is he going somewhere?”

 

He didn’t hear anything for the first couple of second, but Marco imagined Sanji nodding at her before he spoke, voice solemn, “He won’t be in tomorrow. It’s the 2nd anniversary of his brother, the previous patissier here’s death,”

 

* * *

 

“Why this?”

 

“What do you mean ‘why this’? This is what i’ve been promising you for weeks now!” With a grand flourish rivalling a great showman, Thatch gestured to the plentiful items littering their dining table with a proud grin on his face, “Ta-da! Your very own cooking lesson!”

 

Marco took a glance at the mess, at Thatch’s expectant looks, and said again, “Why?”

 

The chef rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his hips and using the other to point at the burned indent on the ceiling, a new addition to their abode from a couple of days ago. Marco grimaced, though he wouldn’t budge on his annoyance about this entire situation, “Okay, i burned food once. Doesn’t mean i’m in dire need of a lesson or anything,”

 

“Once? Oh, so the time you sprayed and filled _my kitchen_ \- yes, mine, because you have no business being in here - with fire extinguisher foam because you burned _water_ didn’t happen, huh? What about that time you made me throw away one of my expensive frying pan because you ended up burning the plate? Or that time you fried egg without any oil? Or the time wh—“

 

“Okay fine, i’m a shit cook. Thank goodness it wasn’t my job or anything,” 

 

“Yes, thank goodness indeed,” Thatch grinned brightly, as if he just heard Marco agreeing with him, “And that’s why as a good brother who may not always be there to feed you when you’re feeling even slightly peckish, i’m going to impart my wisdom to you instead!” 

 

“You know that take out pizza is a thing, ri—“

 

“If you dare to speak of that blasphemy again in front of me, i will smack you with a spatula, don’t think i would,” he glared, because even after years, Marco would never understand his incredible hatred for cheap take-outs and fast food. The one time he found out Marco participated in the ‘Pizza day’ his precinct held, he refused to talk to him for an entire week, “And besides, cooking if the best way to get to get the ladies’ heart. Or, you know, lads’, in your case. Might actually get a date sometimes this century once you know your way in culinary arts,”

 

Marco stared at him, before wordlessly turned back to the direction of his bedroom.

 

“Ay! Don’t walk away from me!”

 

“Thatch, it’s 7 in the goddamn morning, i just came back from 2 back to back shifts, and i got less than 10 hours of sleep when i feel like i need at least 20. What makes you think that i would want to do anything right but sleep?”

 

Briefly, there’s a look of guilt crossing the pompadoured man’s expression, but he stayed determined, clasping both hands on Marco’s shoulders to prevent him from escaping further, “A quick one then! Something for breakfast, since you’d need to eat too. C’mon, Marco, we haven’t seen each other for days, i want to spend quality bonding time with my brother!”

 

It should look a little ridiculous to see a grown man like Thatch whine like that, but Marco can see his point. Despite living together, their respective jobs makes coming across each other rather hard, especially with Marco’s impending promotion in sight. Being senior officer was nice and all, but he’s looking forward to be promoted to captain and leave all of the footwork and long, arduous hours behind.

 

With a heavy sigh, he turned to the clock hanging on the kitchen wall - and opting to ignore the gleeful, victorious grin on Thatch’s face - he noted that he’s have another 15 hour before he had to be in the precinct again, “Fine,” he conceded, and continued before Thatch can get a word in, “But only something quick. I don’t want a lecture, just show me what you want to show me so i can go back to bed,”

 

“Well, that’s no fun,” the auburn haired man sniffed, “But alright, it’s better than nothing. The sooner i can get some of this knowledge in your ol’ noggin’ the better i feel,”

 

Marco rolled his eyes, but still followed his sibling to the stove top.

 

The breakfast that Thatch promised him turns out to be not quite the type of breakfast he was thinking of, with bacons, eggs and some toast - in which case, Marco will tell him he already know how to make that, albeit not as fancy as Thatch’s - but it involved something with butter, eggs, sugar and quite oddly, a rather large chocolate bar, “Are you making me pancakes or something?” he asked as the other man prepared all of the ingredients on the counter, waving off his rather condescending introduction to what an egg is. He’s not that bad at culinary as a whole.

 

“Pancakes? Pfft, you’d think i’d be teaching you something that trite?” It would be nice if you would, Marco wanted to say in reply, because sleepy or not, everyone can do with some pancakes.

 

But evidently not, because the first thing Thatch did after he introduced all of the ingredients to Marco - who still insisted he’s not that unknowledgeable when it comes to food - was pull out a pot and filling it with water, before pulling one of his mixing bowl and placing it on top of the pot. Immediately after he turned on the stove, Marco groaned, “Oh no, this is going to get complicated, isn’t it? I thought you said this is going to be easy?”

 

“It is going to be easy, Marco. Damn, you’re such a complainer sometimes,”

 

Like a true sibling he is, Thatch expertly ignored Marco’s quip about how everyone would if they’re sleep deprived and did the oddest thing Marco ever seen anyone doing: He pulled the chocolate bar and started dicing them, before placing all of the chopped confectionaries to the bowl, “What… are you doing?”

 

“I’m melting the chocolate of course. This is the first step for this recipe,”

 

“Yeah, i’m going to need you to explain that to me. Why the hell are you melting in on a bowl on top of a pot on top of the stove? Why not just use the pot to melt it? One less thing to wash,” The face that Thatch made at his comment made Marco felt like he just said something scandalous, and he quickly waved his own words off before Thatch can say anything, “On second thought, never mind. Just… just show me what the hell that’s supposed to do and be done with it,”

 

The process turns out not to be as tedious as he originally thought, and it was fairly straightforward. The melted chocolate was mixed with butter, the eggs were beaten and mixed with sugar - a really bizarre concept for someone who only knew eggs was ever seasoned with salt - and they were all combined with a sieved mixture of flour and cocoa powder (“Can’t you just like… dump them? That tapping-tapping thing seems like a lot of work,”, “Marco, for the love of god, it’s called sieving. Why do you only have half of your usual intelligence in the morning?”, “You’re the one offering to teach me right now of all times!”) until the entire thing looked glossy and smelled fairly good.

 

Marco still thought that this was all an effort to make chocolate pancake, until Thatch poured the mixture into some ceramic moulds and left them to bake in the oven. When he pulled them out and proudly presented them to the blonde, Marco only gave him a weary look, recognizing the shape and form from the couple of times he had seen Thatch making it for himself,  “You’re… making your own favorite dessert,”

 

“Yep, quick and easy,” Thatch grinned as if nothing was wrong, though from the glint on his eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

“Goddamn it, you said breakfast!”

 

“It is breakfast! They can be eaten at any time!”

 

“By you, maybe! I don’t even like chocolates!”

 

“Oh come on, what’s so wrong about them?! Won’t you pleeease try it out, i tweaked the recipe a bit and i need an amateur’s opinion before i had Sanji use it in the patisserie!”

 

“It’s not even a cooking lesson, then, you just wanted me to taste test for you!”

 

“Ha! So you do want me to teach you to cook!”

 

The squabble continued on for minutes on end, and it only stopped because Marco was practically dead on his feet. The next time he woke up, there’s plate of pastry on his bedside table, filled with flavourful stew. A note next to the plate stated that they’ll continue their lesson later by making this, so he better be ready for it.

‘I’ll make you a master chef like myself in no less than 12 weeks if its the last thing i do!” the note declared at the end, and even as he sighed in exasperation at how enthused Thatch was about this entire thing, Marco couldn’t help but smile and went along for the ride.

 

10 weeks and 6 days later, Thatch’s lifeless body was cradled in Marco’s shaking arms, already lost to the world.

 

* * *

 

Marco woke up with a shudder running through his spine.

 

He panted like he had been running a marathon, feeling droplets of sweat making their way down from his temple and yet at the same time, felt shivering cold. A quick survey of his surrounding told him that he had fallen asleep on the sofa last night, which explain the chill and, after gaining a little more alertness, the painful crick on his neck. 

 

“Oh shit,” he breathed, covering his face with both of his hands. His skin felt clammy and wet to the touch, incredibly unpleasant sensation all around. There’s a thud somewhere on the floor once he sat up, and he glanced down to see that Thatch’s cooking book was now on the floor face down, some of the pages folded underneath the weight of the cover. Quickly, Marco swiped it back up and flattened the pages, before putting it on the table gingerly. Once he was sure that the book won’t come into any harm, he leaned back against the sofa, trying to control his breathing and out of control heartbeat.

 

It wasn’t as bad as it was 2 years ago, when he could barely sleep every night due to that image appearing before his eyes at almost every waking moment, and even every time he closed his eyes. Nowadays, he barely ever dreamed anymore, and when the dream would come every now and then, it would always leave him into a sweating and panting mess. 

 

And it’s a becoming a lot more frequent these last few days, the closer it comes to the anniversary of Thatch’s death.

 

With one last sigh, Marco laid his head on the sofa’s backrest and closed his eyes, feeling a pang on his chest when he recalled the memory displayed in that dream. It felt so long ago, yet if he turned his head to the right direction now, he could see the kitchen, the burn mark on the ceiling, and every little detail that matched with the kitchen he saw in his dreams. He never dared to enter there after everything, and the times he did, he felt like he was intruding Thatch’s territory.

 

A small self-deprecating smile bloomed bitterly on his face. He wondered what Thatch would have to say about his beloved kitchen falling into disuse after he’s gone. Maybe he’ll be grateful to see that Marco didn’t do any further damage without him around. Or maybe he’d be sad at the state of it.

 

Oh well, he can ask later.

 

He can ask it to his tombstone.

 

* * *

 

Back in his childhood, their family might be an adopted one but they were all inseparable. They go to the same school, some were even on the same grade, they do activities together and they all lived under one roof under the care of their adopted father. But adulthood and adult life drew them apart, reluctant as any of them were to be separated. They would hold reunions every couple of weeks in Pops’ house, and even without the official reunion, some of them would visit or just merely keep in touch with each other, despite living in different cities and even countries. 

 

Marco’s move to Raftel city had been a solo act, until a couple of months later, he found out that Thatch had been accepted to work in the same city. He offered to be roommates and split the cost, and that had been their lives since. Living together again with Thatch was honestly like living in his childhood home, although they are now separated by working hours instead of different extracurricular activities. It was even better considering that Raftel City was quite far away from Moby, their hometown, which means that at least Marco will know someone from back home.

 

But after Thatch was gone, that distant become even more of an inconvenience. Thatch had been buried here instead of Moby, because their hometown was quite small and the nearest graveyard was not quite in a good shape. Pops and all of Thatch’s brothers wanted what’s best for him, even in death, and per Marco’s request had him put not far away from where he lived so he can visit anytime and keep it in good condition.

 

Thatch’s tombstone was quite grand compared to the rest, because Pops wouldn’t settle for anything less for his children. His name bore Pops’ surname, just like all of them, and the epitaph was something Marco had spent 3 days of not sleeping to write, because he wanted to encapsulate Thatch’s sunny personality and fulfilling life perfectly. As he placed the bouquet of flower down against the tombstone, he brushed over the epitaph and Thatch’s name with the tip of his finger.

 

“Hey,” he said as he sat down, jostling the bottle of liquor in his hand a little. It was Thatch’s favorite, some fancy red wine that he liked to buy on special occasions. He placed the bottle next to the flowers, and sat crossed legged on the grasses, a pose he always adopted every time he was here, “Hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. Pops and the other brothers wanted me to tell you they missed you as always. Sanji also sent his regards,”

 

Marco’s visit to Thatch grave doesn’t happen only on the anniversary, but monthly, or even weekly when he’s feeling particularly down. Odd as it is, it was his place to unwind and forgot all of his worries, and he would talk to Thatch until he can’t talk anymore, spilling all of his worries, problems and others, just like he would back then. He told Thatch about the various psychiatrists that the family had him go to, he went here when he lost his job and was eventually hired by Sanji, he told Thatch about the first time he successfully recreate Sanji’s recipe, and lastly, 2 months ago, he told Thatch about Ace.

 

“He still doesn’t eat anything from the store,” he told the Thatch, distracting himself by pulling some weeds away on the grasses and around the gravestone, “He already ordered everything we had, and i don’t know, i was getting a little worried. What if he can’t find something he liked in the store and gave up? I mean, all this time, he probably only came in because of Koala, but then, why would he order every time? He does know that not ordering is also an option if you’re just going along with a friend?”

 

He sighed, throwing another sprig of weed, “I uh, heh, you’re probably going to laugh your ass off when i tell you this, but believe it or not, i started coming up with my own recipe now,”

 

Then again, maybe Thatch wouldn’t laugh. Maybe he’d be jumping in joy and crying tears of happiness. 

 

“It’s nothing big, and i saw some of them from your cookbook and gave it my own spin. Sanji said they’re good, and the costumers loved it but,” again, Marco sighed, shaking his head, “Ace, he…. he still won’t eat them,”

 

He kept talking. Talking and talking, spilling all of his thoughts and worries and opinion about Ace that it was only by the blue sky slowly gaining a tinge of orange on the horizon that Marco realized he had stayed for quite a while. He chuckled, adjusting the flower bouquets, “Sorry, i’ve been talking non-stop about him, haven’t i? Well, you always insisted that i talk about the people that i like to you, even though i kept telling you i don’t like anyone. That never grew out in our adulthood, does it?”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Marco’s smile slowly vanished, “Yeah, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? I think i like Ace. There’s something special about him, something that makes me want to know more about him,” with nothing else to do with his hand, Marco leaned his back against the stone’s side, one leg outstretched and the other folded close to his chest, “That’s why i wanted to keep trying to make something he’d like, because i felt like i have to succeed if i wanted to win him over, you know?”

 

With a weary sigh and a shaky inhale, Marco hung his head low, ignoring the pang in his chest and the scratchiness in his throat as he spoke, “But i still couldn’t. I’m not as good of a cook as you or Sanji, and i don’t think i ever will be. Hell, i can’t even ask him out normally that i resorted in making cakes after cakes he won’t eat in hope that maybe once he liked something, he’d like me too. How stupid is this brother of yours, Thatch?”

 

The wind around him began to pick up, and around the grassy roads, he could hear faint whistling between the grasses. There’s not many people who would visit a grave as frequently as he did, and out of all the times Marco was out here, he rarely ever find another person. As the wind blew even stronger, Marco leaned his head back against the stone, and let the pressure that has been building up in his eyes to let go.

 

“I wish you’re still here, man,” he whispered, knowing that if he spoke a little louder, his voice will crack and that’ll break what little restraint he had left, “I wish you’re still here to listen to my rants, to listen to some stupid crush i had on a costumer i can never please, to help me coming up with new recipes to impress him and tease me endlessly about working this hard to win him. I wish i can introduce my very first crush to you in person as my boyfriend, have you lecture me over and over about what to wear on our date like i know you always wanted to do, and tell me that you and him are going to be the best of friends because you and him will probably make fun of me together and you will tell him every embarrassing stories about me because i know you would’ve liked Ace, Thatch,”

 

When the first drop from the sky fell, Marco couldn’t even distinguish if the wetness on his face was from the rain or his tears. He sat there even as little droplets became harder and more frequent, and he was soaked to the bone. Marco barely cared. It hurts, it still does even after 2 years, and he suspect it won’t stop hurting for a long time.

 

“I miss you, brother. I miss my best friend,” he closed his eyes, hanging his head down and ignoring that his hair had gone flat against his temple and the back of his scalp. 

 

The wind blows again, this time ruffling even Marco’s heavily soaked tresses. He ignored it, pulling both of his legs closer to his chest as he rested both his arms on top of them.

 

He sat there for a while, ignoring the drizzles and the wetness that began to seep underneath his clothes. His heart was still pounding, his chest was still hurting, and with every breath that he took, his lips quiver, “I wish you’re still here to help me,”

 

The rain pours down for who knows how long, the pitter patter sound of water from the heavens dropping to the ground becoming increasingly calming. Marco sat there just listening to it, trying to sooth himself before he could be deemed suitable to face society again without feeling like his heart has been torn into two.

 

But as he sat there, he noticed that while the sound of the rain still surround him, rain water no longer fell on him. Confused, he slowly lifted his head, and found with some degree of surprised that there’s a pair of legs standing in front of him, clad in a partially wet jeans, as if the owner had been walking in the rain for quite some time. He looked up, wishing to thank the person before sending them on their way, when he saw the person’s face and widened his eyes.

 

Ace looked down at him with downcast eyes, his hair fairly wet despite holding an umbrella, and the top of his shirt soaking wet and thin enough to reveal the skin underneath. 

 

As Marco still rendered silence by this unexpected reveal, the younger knelt down to eye level with him, “When you told me to come back again today,” he began softly, ”You didn’t tell me that you’re not going to be in,”

 

Through bloodshot eyes, Marco could only stare at him, and after a long period of silence, finally spoke, “Sorry,”

 

With a little laugh, Ace smiled, just a hint brighter, as if Marco has said something amusing. The dark haired male turned his gaze from Marco to the tombstone behind him. There’s something unreadable and far away on his eyes, even as he shifted his eyes back to Marco and gave him a small, sad smile, “I need to talk to you, and wanted to ask if you’d go have a coffee with me, but i can wait here, if you still want to stay a little longer,”

 

Marco’s eyes flickered at the offer. He glanced back at the tombstone and to Ace, who was still giving him the same patient smile.

 

The wind blows again, this time a little harder and nearly made Ace topple from his perch. Marco caught him before he could fall, and shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I think even my brother would agree that i’ve been here for far too long,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there i haven't written angst in a while and i think you can probably tell.
> 
> Also, writing this fic often makes me crave cakes and sweets. I'm gonna have one after i publish this. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think about this so far and what you'd need me to add or elaborate a bit more because i know i made this in quite a rush so i may left a lot of glaring mistakes.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and i hoped you liked it!


	3. Bitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start this chapter of by apologizing that 14 February already ended (or nearly so) and this fic is still not finished. Ain't real life's a bitch. 
> 
> But really, between my upcoming out of town business and packing up, there's not much time for me to do anything, so me writing 6k was only possible due to already having the outline of what this story's gonna be. Even then the reason why it's not 4 chapter is because i kept getting new ideas.
> 
> I will finish this by tomorrow, but before i could, if you don't mind please tell me what you think so far and if i made any glaring mistake and contradiction, or is there something that's not clear. I know with how much i rush that is bound to happen.
> 
> Anyway! On to the story! Hope you'd enjoy!

 

Compared to the warm and inviting atmosphere maintained in _Mr. Prince Patisserie_ , the air in the diner they ended up holing themselves in was drab, as if reflecting the dark pouring sky outside. Still, it was close by the cemetery and open despite the rather late hour, so Marco hardly protested when Ace led him over.

 

A young, frazzled waitress dropped their orders, two cups of black coffee, and left without a word. Others would say that was a lacklustre service, but right now, Marco was just glad for the silence. He reached over for one, taking another glance across the table and saw that Ace was still staring out of the window, to the direction where the cemetery grounds lies. He’s been doing that ever since they arrived here, and not a word has been exchanged between them other than to place their orders.

 

Marco took a sip of his coffee, and flinched from a single touch of liquid to his tongue. It was bitter as all hell, and not the type of bitter he would usually searched for in black coffees. Clearing his throat, he reached over for the small sugar container on the side of the table, and as he pulled the ceramic jar close, Ace suddenly spoke, “It was raining like this too that day, wasn’t it?”

 

The blonde paused, hand hovering over his cup with holding a spoonful of sugar, “Huh?”

 

“The day we first met,” the younger elaborate, before taking a sip from his own cup. Marco wasn’t fast enough to warn him off from it and waited for Ace’s reaction, but he simply put it away like he hadn’t just drank what could only be tar from the depths of earth, and continued, “When Koala and i took shelter at your place?”

 

“Ah, yeah,” he placed two spoonful of sugar to his drink, and after some consideration, pour two more. After stirring it, he caught the sight of a frown on Ace’s face as he took a sip. It still tasted bad, but it wasn’t inedible bad, “It was 2 months ago. You still remember that?”

 

The frown disappeared and was replaced by a grin, “Of course. In a hindsight, i should’ve known that asking Sanji for help when you’re a guy is a lost cause, but at least he didn’t kick me out back to the rain for messing up with his floorings. Or it’s probably because Koala was with me,”

 

Marco gave him a light chuckle, a sign that he agreed with the observation. 

 

When silence descended once again, it didn’t held the same level of tension and awkwardness, but at the same time, Marco couldn’t help but to be left curious. Why would Ace look for him this far away? The cemetery grounds weren’t exactly close to the city centre, or even anywhere else, and no one would purposefully come here besides for visiting. He was going to voice these questions away, when Ace beat him to the punch, “Can… can i ask, how he died?” he said, voice so soft it was near a whisper, “Your brother, i mean. How did he die?”

 

From the question alone, Marco’s stomach churned. He supposed his turmoil must’ve clearly shown on his face because Ace quickly said, “N-never mind. I’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked that,”

 

“It’s alright,” the older told him as an automatic response. Too many people had asked, whether it was his psychiatrists in trying to get him to open up about that day, or strangers who have heard that he lost a sibling. Only his family and friends who also knew Thatch has yet to do so, at least, not to him directly. Answering it was always hard, no matter who asked, because he never wanted to. Answering means reliving that day, the worst day of his life, and he had enough of that for a lifetime.

 

And yet, at the time, 2 years has yet to pass. The wound was still fresh then, but by now, he knows he was bleeding out because of his own fault. He’ll pick on the scab purposefully, never letting it close properly and never quite letting it heal. He never let himself heal.

 

And Marco wanted to, hard as it would be.

 

“He was murdered,” he began, squeezing his eyes shut when his voice hitched at the word ‘murdered’, “Murdered in broad daylight, by a fucking scumbag lowlife. A kind of death someone like him doesn’t deserve,”

 

His palms were sweating and heated, with how hard he pressed them against the sides of his coffee cup. But holding something as he spoke make it easier, even if he doesn’t understand the reason for the comfort. He took in a deep, shaky breath and lifted his head, catching the pitiful look Ace morose expression, as if Marco’s explanation has also caused him great grief, “I was a police officer, before all of this. During my patrol routine, there’s a distress call coming in, a couple of blocks away from where i was at the time and the report mentioned that someone was armed but no one was injured. But when i got there, someone already was. And out of everyone else in the goddamn world, it has to be my own brother,”

 

It’s all coming back to him, even to the smallest details he didn’t know he remembered. He remembered his partner at the time keeping contact with the operator as he speed down the street, siren blaring on top of them. He remembered hearing the operator mentioning a particular chain store near where the incident happen, and briefly telling himself then that it was the same place Thatch often frequents to buy ingredients, but quickly quelled his own worries when he realized he should be at work now, far away from where the incident took place.

 

But when their car arrived, he knew immediately that wasn’t true.

 

Marco watched it all happen, watched as his foolish brother pushed aside a frightened woman from a larger man, and before he could even step out of the car, Thatch was already on the ground, blood pooling around him. The man let out a curse when he caught sight of him and ran away, dumping the bloodied knife away. The sudden movement was what jogged Marco into action, and his first instinct was to quickly run to Thatch’s side, instead of doing what he was supposed to do and catch the run away perpetrator.

 

Thatch’s body was still warm, but so was the blood quickly pouring out of him. His expression was pained as he gaze up and found Marco’s face, but he still smiled, grinning so stupidly as if he wasn’t close on death’s door. He greeted Marco like nothing was wrong, and even had the chance to joke about how the next cooking class will be cancelled until further notice. As much as Marco loved his brother, he hated him at that moment, hated him for making it look like things are going to be alright.

 

When the paramedic came and had to forcibly push him out of the way, Marco knew nothing was going to be okay. Thatch’s body was fading away even as he kept screaming for him to hold on, that help is on the way and that he doesn’t get to die just yet, but deep down, he knew there’s no helping it.

 

He received the news that Thatch passed away just 5 minutes after the ambulance drove off. Marco, blood stained and numb, could only sob silently inside of his patrol car as his partner patted his back and silently drove back to the precinct.

 

“We caught the bastard that did it a day later, while he was on the lam. An information came in from an elderly store owner who noticed that his new costumer looked a bit too much like the wanted sketch from yesterday news and called us. I wasn’t allowed to be involved in the arrest due to conflict of interest,” Marco smiled wryly, as he continued, “Probably for the best. When they brought him in, it took 5 different people to hold me down, and i still managed to sock him. Lord knows what i would’ve done if i was the one who arrested him,”

 

A bitter smile made it to Marco’s face, “I got suspended because of that. Disorderly conduct, unnecessary use of violence, and just about everything else. Our adopted father practically ordered me to come home, but it… it doesn’t make me feel better so i came back to the apartment i shared with him. I isolate myself away from everyone, drove myself crazy in that apartment on my own. When i came back, i was required to take a psych evaluation. I didn’t pass it,” he chuckled, the sound as humourless as it can be, “I was supposed to be promoted a week later,”

 

When he lifted his head again, this time, it was Ace who was looking away from him, head hung low and a hand placed in front of his mouth. Marco felt torn, and it was only because he felt wrung out of tears that he couldn’t cry anymore, but Ace looked like he’s close to it. While he appreciate the display of empathy, Marco had to wonder if Ace also lost someone close to him the same way.

 

He was about to ask, when Ace let out a shuddering breath, “Oh god, Thatch. Fuck,” he gasped out in a voice full of pain, “Fuck, how could this happen to you?”

 

It was a comment he himself made hundreds and thousands of times, but Marco couldn’t help but point out that, “I never told you what his name was,”

 

Ace froze briefly, before he turned his gaze back to Marco’s near accusing stare and smiled in full sorrow, “You don’t have to,” he said with a little weak laughter, “I… I never told you this but, even if we’ve only met each other 2 months ago, i’ve known you for longer. Well, know about you, at least,” he smiled a little wider, his eyes turning watery and it was obviously with a great deal of effort that he kept them in bay, “And i’ve known Thatch for just about as long,”

 

The revelation left Marco speechless. 

 

When he failed to produce any sort of reply, the raven haired male across from him wiped his eyes with the side of his wrist, “When Sanji first opened his patisserie, i used to come around a lot with my brother Luffy, who’s friends with Sanji. It was how i first met him. Thatch was quite the character, everyone liked him, but somehow, he said he took a shine to me. Whenever i came around, he would show me his latest creation, said that while he had his brother help him with the taste, he didn’t know a lick about art so he had me judge how he decorated them,”

 

‘Help’ is too generous of a word, because it was more like Thatch would beg, guilt trip, and sometimes blackmail him to trying out everything he and Sanji were going to put out in the store, because apparently Marco’s knowledge and taste was so basic he can never be wrong. Even to this day, he didn’t know if that’s an insult or not.

 

When he told this to Ace, the younger barked a broken laughter, that sounded suspiciously like a sob by the end of it, “He’d do that, won’t he? Thatch always told me all of these stories so proudly, about how he could practically bully his brother into doing everything he wanted, only because he’s a big softie on the inside,” at this, he glanced at Marco, lips curled teasingly even though the effect was dampened by the clear strain on his eyes, “He told me so many things about you,”

 

The little hitch in Ace’s voice, if not his words, awakened a warm sensation in the pit of Marco’s stomach, and the oddly familiar pressure behind his eyes began to build up. He shook them away by lifting his coffee cup, smiling thinly behind the rim, “Did he?”

 

“Every time i visit, he would told me so many stories that i began to feel like we’re talking about someone we mutually know,” the younger said with a chuckle, eyes far away from this place and this current moment, “Everyday, it was ‘Guess what, Marco did this’ or ‘You know, once, my brother, Marco and i’ and there would be all of these sort of anecdotes and stories he would tell me. Sometimes, he’d tell me all these rather risqué and embarrassing stories, that i can’t help but to ask - after the story’s finished, of course - that if you’d appreciate him telling this sort of stuff to random strangers,”

 

Ace took another shuddering breath, giving Marco a thin, shaky smile, “He said that i’m not a random stranger, because he really wanted us to meet. His two favorite people in the world,”

 

Marco had to put down his cup and covered his eyes quickly with one hand, because the stinging pain was too much. When his palm made contact with newfound wetness on his damp cheeks, he wasn’t even surprised. 

 

“When i was told he died, i couldn’t believe it. I thought someone was playing a sick elaborate joke on me or something, because the patisserie was closed for 3 days and i couldn’t make sure of it. When i came back on the 4th day and there was only Sanji that morning, somehow, i knew it was the truth,” he heard Ace swallow hard, his voice slowly reduced to a mere whisper, “I can’t bear it, you know? I can’t stand coming there anymore, so i never did,”

 

From behind his fingers, Marco could see Ace leaning sideways now on the booth’s backrest, a single tear already making its way down to his jaw. He was staring outside again now, to the direction of the cemetery grounds. To Thatch, “If it wasn’t for the rain 2 months ago, i never would’ve come back. It hurts constantly seeing the reminder that my friend was gone, and when Luffy said Sanji can’t run the place on his own and has no choice but to hire someone else, i hated it even more. It was irrational, i know, but i can’t help it,”

 

He shifted, the musky sofa that was the booth’s seat creaking with his movement. Ace peeked towards Marco from behind his still damp locks, the way Marco was looking at him through his fingers, “When i first came in and saw the third guy i never met before, i was ready to storm out and leave Koala there. I was only there so she can have somewhere to hide from the rain, but i prefer being wet than seeing the person who replaced Thatch’s position,” he smiled, his lips a painful and quivering stretch, “But then i took just one look at you, and know that you’re not just some stranger. You’re Thatch’s brother, exactly the way he always told me,”

 

Despite himself, Marco returned his smile. Then he quickly bit his lower lips because with a new torrent of tears, comes the inevitable ripping sob and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself back if he ever let it out. He cried enough today, cried enough in the last 2 years.

 

But evidently, Ace did not have the same inhibition, because he began to weep openly, the sound only muffled by him clasping a hand over his mouth. He curled in and wrapped his other arm around himself, bangs falling even more over his eyes. He kept this for minutes on end, and Marco tampered down the urge to come over and comfort him because he didn’t think he’s in the state to comfort anyone, much less about Thatch. He distracted himself by assuring the waitress from earlier that everything is fine when she approached their table with a concerned look, and was grateful that they took a seat in one of the more secluded area of the dinner.

 

It took a long while, and Marco could only tell that Ace had calmed down when his body stopped shivering violently, and his hand was lowered enough to reveal the top half of his mouth. Slowly, he said in a quiet and rather shy tone, “You know, it wasn’t always an embarrassing or stupid stories. Sometimes he tried to talk you up in front of me, emphasising your good qualities and always saying ‘You’d like him when you meet him, i just know it’. He thinks i didn’t notice, but this, and the declaration that i have to meet his brother, only ever started after i told him i was single,” 

 

He let out a little laugh, wet and heartbreaking, “It was such a pathetic attempt from the get go, but i eventually got curious, and told him i don’t mind. Then Thatch would say that as much as he wanted it to happen right away, his brother is unfortunately quite pathetic when it comes to romance, and he still has to teach him some good skills to impress me first before we can meet,” 

 

Ace turned towards Marco, eyes bloodshot and with tear streaks all over his face, but the smile on his face was genuine and even a little amused, “And ever since i first saw you, i kept wondering; What would Thatch say if he knew we ended up meeting each other after all?”

 

The question was rhetorical, the musing that comes from grief. Marco himself had so many of his own ‘what ifs’, still had the moments he asked himself what would Thatch say or do in a certain situation, as if he was still alive and he could see the reaction he was imagining for him. He never found the answer because Thatch was gone, but he would still think of something anyway, because there’s only so little someone could do from driving themselves insane with regret.

 

So even if Ace never expected an answer with his question, “Probably trying even harder to hook us up,”

 

They stared at each other for quite a while, and though he didn’t know who started it first, the two of them descended into little giggles, and eventually laughing together as if they had told the funniest joke and not sharing each other’s abrupt eulogy for a man who had died for quite some time. Tears were still streaming down their faces, but for once, it wasn’t painful or excruciating. It was with some degree of relief and joy. It was liberating.

 

Marco liked to think that Thatch would’ve wanted it that way.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for walking me home,”

 

“No problem,” Marco replied once Ace stopped in front of his destination, the lobby of a rather modern looking apartment building downtown, just one of the many around the block. The security guard gave them an acknowledging nod before going back to his own business, “Thank you for the umbrella. And for today,”

 

Ace gave him a little laugh, jostling the aforementioned umbrella a little and sending little sprays of water to the ground. 

 

For a moment, none of them talk, yet none of them move to take a step away and leave, or even say goodbye. Marco found that he was still rooted on the ground, despite the soggy mess that was his clothing, and that he wanted to do nothing else but come back home, take a long shower and sleep as long as he could. Ace was in a better state altogether, but even with his home being only a couple of steps and an elevator ride away, he didn’t leave. They simply stood in silence, Marco staring at Ace and Ace alternating between looking at Marco or to the floor.

 

The blonde knew exactly what he was doing; he didn’t want to leave just yet. Everything he learned today and everything that happened had pretty much solidified it in his mind that he didn’t want this closeness to end just yet. He was afraid that come tomorrow, Ace would be another difficult costumer to handle, and their interaction would return to become mundane and trivial.

 

People come and go, and Marco was aware that the security from earlier was now watching them with interest. 

 

The spell broken, when Ace made a single knock on the floor with his umbrella, and spoke, “I…There’s something else i need to talk to you about,”

 

“Okay,” Marco nodded.

 

But Ace didn’t say anything else. He returned to staring between the floor and Marco, only now the former even more than the latter. He looked nervous, if the way he bit his lower lips was of any indication, and when he spoke next, Marco knew he changed his mind from saying whatever it is he needed to say before. It was evident with the shakiness of his voice, and the stumbling beginning, as if what he had said was completely spontaneous, “I… Actually, i…Y-you said that you were a police officer. How did you go from that to helping Sanji?”

 

Hiding his curiousity from what Ace meant to say in the beginning, Marco decided to give him an answer, “Well, you know that lesson Thatch gave me?” he smiled, shaking his head in amusement, “Believe it or not, it had been cooking lessons. He taught me a lot of things, mainly stuff he made at the patisserie and even how to make things from scratch. I never told him, but he was actually a pretty good teacher when he got his mind into it,”

 

His smile dimmed a little, and he sighed as he continued, “As to how i ended up working with Sanji, well, it was probably a series of coincidence. The last psychiatrist i went to - and still do, but in a less frequent schedule - Robin, is friends with Sanji. One of her advice for me back then was to find something healthy to distract myself, something that i can find as a new goal. I immediately thought of baking, because that was the last thing Thatch ever taught me,”

 

The memory, at least the beginning of it was hard. But Marco still finds himself smiling a little at the memory, “At first, i hated it. Nothing i made came out the way Thatch would, and to be honest, the constant reminder was painful. I wasn’t making any progress with myself, and was probably only making things worse,” he looked down to see Ace staring intently at him, as if he was hanging by his every word. Marco cleared his throat when he felt his cheeks heating at the scrutiny, “Then, while i was cleaning things out, i found his favorite cookbook. Read the thing from cover to cover in just one day,”

 

Ace waited quietly as Marco gathered his thoughts, trying to remember the sequence of events from then on, “I improved, somehow. After this one perfect batch of brownies - probably the easiest there is - that even i felt pretty good about, it felt just right to do it. I showed the result to Robin and gave her a small jar of it as a thank you, hoping that it’ll be enough to show my progress. Turns out instead of just eating it, she gave some to Sanji,”

 

Marco smiled even wider, and chuckled fondly, “What happened next felt like a fever dream, to tell you the truth. 3 days after that appointment, i heard banging down my door, and when i open it, there’s this really pissed off looking blonde guy with curly eyebrows who looked at me from top to bottom. He asked if i’m Marco, and after i told him i am, he physically dragged me inside of my own house and told me to do it again. I didn’t even know what he was talking about until he showed me this small plastic container with the brownies in them,”

 

Sanji had assured him, after some accusation that Robin had done nothing but give him the treats and told him that his previous patissier’s brother was who made it, and forcefully had him do it by refusing to leave. Marco did it only because he needed him to leave, but once Sanji tasted the result, he simply gave Marco a nod and said, “You start tomorrow at 6 am. Just dress casually if you want, i’ll give you an apron, and i’ll show you more about how things works. After you get the hang of it, we’ll start at 7 am every morning,”

 

He didn’t even know why that, despite his vindication the day before, Marco did show up in front of _Mr. Prince Patisserie_ at 6 am in the morning. But he was sure now that he never quite regretted that decision.

 

But even as Marco continues to be amused by that recollection, Ace, in turn, looked troubled, “Did.. did you like it? Doesn’t it bothers you that… that it was where Thatch used to be?”

 

Answering it should be hard, at least, Ace probably thinks so because of how hesitant he sounded. But Marco already made his peace with it, even if it took a long while and some serious talking to from both Robin and Sanji to get it through his skull, “I’d like to think of it as me continuing what Thatch couldn’t do anymore,” he said with a wistful smile, “He loved cooking so much. He taught me everything i need to know, and so with every food i made, it was made from his teaching. Every time i see someone enjoying my handiwork, i feel like i’m letting his passion live through me,”

 

And that beats the hell out of feeling guilty over a death he could never reverse.

 

He didn’t know what sort of answer Ace expected him to give, but he hadn’t expected him to look so stricken. Marco was about to ask what is wrong, when the raven haired male spoke, eyes never quite meeting his, “Tomorrow, when i come in,” on his side, Marco could see his grip tightening around his umbrella, so much that his knuckles turned white, “C-can you please make something again for me?”

 

* * *

 

The first words that left Marco’s mouth the moment he poked his head into the kitchen was this, “Sanji, i’d like to make a change to one of the display today,”

 

Sanji’s reaction was to openly stare at him for a long 5 minutes, hands fully buried in a risen dough and with a speck of flour decorating his cheek that seems to slowly fell with how fast he’s blinking. He then retreated his hands slowly from the dough, leaving it a sticky and blobby mess on his working station and said, “You have half an hour to make an entire batch with the same capacity as our usual stock for whatever it is you’re going to make. If you don’t think that’s enough time or that we don’t have the ingredients for it, tough luck,”

 

Marco only gave him a confident grin, which seems to catch him off guard, and stepped fully inside to reveal that he was dragging several large bags of ingredients he know he will need.

 

“Half an hour will be more than enough for me,”

 

* * *

 

Of course, he was still an employee there so he had to work with other cakes and treats like usual, but Marco didn’t need too much time to finish his ‘specialty’. He quickly put just enough for the display case outside in the oven, leaving the rest of the batter to where they kept the other batches and continued on working between layering Millefeuille with custard and making the chocolate frosting decoration for the Opera cake with a spinning table.

 

He didn’t see Sanji until he was finished with the Opera and moved on to the cooling choux pastry on the rack behind him when he caught Sanji standing behind one of the oven door, specifically the one he used to bake his forced replacement. Marco placed the piping bag he had picked up to scoop in cream back down, and made his way over behind his boss, “I hope they’re coming along well,”

 

Sanji turned, and there was something unguarded in his pose, his eyes contemplative when he looked from Marco back to the dough baking inside the oven. He glanced back to the oven, take a deep breath and sighed, “I thought the smell was familiar. Even the colour and the way they rose in the mould was pretty much the same,”  he hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, when he glanced back to the older blonde, “He really taught you well,”

 

Marco could only smile at that, wide enough that it shows his teeth. The pride that rose on his chest was unmistakable, “It was the very first thing he ever taught me. I’m just glad it still sticks after this long,”

 

“Pfft, it’s not that hard to make,” his employer scoffed, and Marco wanted to laugh. That’s the Sanji he knew, “Still, this was no doubt Thatch’s recipe. You even used the same mould as him. Funny how that works,”

 

He made a turn to leave, but then stop and spoke, “I don’t know if you know this, but we used to have them in the store,”

 

“I know,” Marco told him with a nod, though he’s pretty sure that Sanji couldn’t see him now. Not that he could see Sanji, either, he’s staring through the oven’s see through window, watching the dough rise and know without even looking at the timer that it was nearly done, “He made me taste test it before he went to get your approval. I don’t really like chocolate that much, but i have to admit, it was good,”

 

There’s a derisive snort behind him, “Good? It was what put our name on the map in the first place. I never did thank him for that,” There’s a beat of silence, and Marco used that time to both watch his creation bake into perfection and digest the wistful regret in Sanji’s voice. After a while, he heard the other man exhaled, “I took it off after… after he passed. I have the recipe, and i could’ve easily made it, but as a chef, i felt like it was his territory ever since the beginning,” he fell silent, and when he spoke again, his voice was grim, “And as a friend, it never felt good enough because it wasn’t him who did it,”

 

“Sanji…,”

 

“Don’t. I need to get this off my chest,” he cuts Marco off before he could say anything else, and leaned against the closest table. He reached to his pocket and, much to Marco’s surprise and consternation, pulled out a pack of cigarette. He pulled a single stick out and put it in his mouth, but he never lit it up. Somehow, Marco felt like if he had lit it up, it wouldn’t even have the same impact as seeing him nearly breaking one of his many principles of the sanctuary that is his kitchen, “I wanted to, to be honest. Wanted to put it up again so badly as a tribute for him, but i simply can’t,”

 

The cigarette stick bobbed up and down as Sanji’s jaws stiffened and he began to grind the inside of his mouth. He was struggling with what to say, Marco realized, so he waited, despite knowing that they don’t have much time left to finish the rest of their work. Right now, he felt like even if there’s a row of women waiting outside, even Sanji would probably make them wait while he finished saying what he needs to say.

 

Of course, they didn’t have to wait long. He finally exhaled and turned to Marco with a wry smile, “I don’t know if you can make it taste as great as he used to make it. Either way, after today, i’m putting it back to the menu,” he grinned, especially when Marco felt his face falling in shock, “It won’t be right for me to be the one who make it. But if it’s you, his own brother who did, i know Thatch wouldn’t want it anyway else,”

 

With that, he pushed himself away from the wall and walked leisurely to his station again, immediately putting himself back to work, “Well, we wasted enough time now. Hurry up and finish that thing off, we don’t have much time left i would never make lovely _mellorines_ wait outside to get their desserts,”

 

* * *

 

The day couldn’t have dragged slower.

 

Despite Sanji’s words, Marco’s cake went flying off faster than anything they ever had, so much that after a dozen of people complaining that their stock went out too fast, Sanji confined Marco the kitchen to only work on cakes and not come out until the rush was over. He worked like a madman in front of the oven and on his station, melting a potful of chocolate every single time and sieving so much that his entire arms hurts. Poor Usopp was made to run around several times already to buy more ingredients, and when Nami came in, she was the one who did most of the running, despite that probably costing Sanji double.

 

By the end of it, Marco’s entire body hurts and he felt like collapsing, so sure that he’s going to smell like nothing other than chocolate, eggs and flours for the rest of the week.

 

But before he could follow what his mind was slowly lulling him to and decided that the floor is an acceptable bed replacement, the door was slammed open and in came Pudding, face red and teeth gritted together. Behind her, Usopp squeaked in surprise, hot on her heels and saying something in line of telling her to calm down. Pudding shook him off, and glared at Marco, “He’s here,”

 

Marco didn’t need to guess twice as to who she is talking about.

 

The blonde glanced to the lone cake inside of the now warm oven, and pulled out a clean plate from the dish rack, “Tell him i’ll be out in a minute. I have to fix his orders first,”

 

* * *

 

When Marco came out of the kitchen, he found Usopp and Pudding staring at him, while Sanji’s pretending not to pay attention. He ignored them, scanning through the evening crowd until he spotted a single table in the corner, the table with, unsurprisingly, 2 familiar occupants, and, surprisingly, 1 he had never seen before. 

 

Bracing himself, he made his way over, trying his best not to look like he’s marching to a certain doom, and as he neared his destination, Marco tried his best to put on an easy smile. 

 

In between Koala and another blonde, Ace sat with his shoulders hunched, looking like he was trying to hide himself away from the world. Which was ridiculous because he was literally hiding beside a petite girl and a man who looked like he’s slightly leaner than Ace himself. Marco tried not to let this affect him too much, as he placed the plate in front of Ace, close enough to him that he could see it even with his head hung low, “Here you go,” he announced, trying to keep the shakiness away from his voice. 

 

He placed the folded utensils right next to the plate, but unlike any other time, instead of leaving and finding a place to silently observe, Marco pulled out the knife out of the arrangement, and made sure to make a cut that directly faced Ace. As a dark stream of chocolate came pouring out of the cake, he watched with silent satisfaction as Ace lifted his head, eyes wide and obviously interested by the display.

 

“That’s…,”

 

“Your order,” the blonde continued when Ace seems tongue tied, placing the chocolate stained knife on top of the plate, “And our specialty starting from today: Molten Lava Cake,”

 

The decoration he placed on the vaguely trapezium shaped dessert was minimalistic at best, with only a hefty drizzle of the chocolate sauce he made for the filling on the very top, and a single strawberry he stole again from their over abundance of stock. It was the way Thatch used to decorate it, when he first brought it home to tell Marco, and he knew that Ace himself also recognize it with the way his eyes began to shine.

 

One of Ace’s hand moved to the utensil set, grabbing one of the fork before a gloved hand suddenly grabbed on to his wrist, “Wait, Ace,” the male blonde on his side suddenly said, glancing worriedly between the cake, Ace, and even Marco, “Look, this is a stupid idea, okay? You know that you—“

 

“Shut up, Sabo!” the hostility was honestly shocking, not just to Marco but also to the scolded man, Sabo, “I… I told you! I have to do this. I want to be able to do this. I… I have to,”

 

The two continued to stare, both of their eyes, dark and stormy versus light and the colour of forest, defiant against each other. Marco stared in confusion between them two of them, unable to comprehend what is going on, until he heard Koala’s voice, “Sabo, just let him do it. He’s been trying for months now, maybe… maybe it’s not going to be that bad,”

 

“Koala, you saw once what—“

 

Answering the question was Sabo’s own fatal mistake, because the moment he was distracted, Ace yanked his hand away to cut a rather large portion of the cake alongside the spilled chocolate and practically shoved it into his mouth.

 

Marco was confident with how it turns out. He had cramped hands and shrivelled fingers today to prove that he’s done a great job. He was confident in the person who made the recipe, he was confident in his ability to follow through with it. He knows nothing could go wrong. 

 

But all of that confidence and hope melted away when Ace suddenly started coughing, and after he swallowed with a great deal of visible effort, started gagging and sputtering, as if he had just eaten the worst thing in his life. There’s tears on the corners of his eyes as he placed both hands on his mouth and throat, and after the second audible swallow that he made, started gagging in such an intensity that his body lurched forward on his seat.

 

“Fuck!” Sabo exclaimed, patting Ace’s back and covering one of Ace’s hand with his own, “This is exactly why i told you not to eat it! Why do you keep doing this?! You could’ve just told him the truth and be—“

 

He didn’t even have enough time to finish when Ace suddenly bolted out of the door, still covering his mouth and throat and making horrible choking noise. Sabo followed suit, calling for his name, and the two left like a flurry of hurricane that passed by too quick for anyone to see.

 

In Marco’s shellshocked state, he barely noticed Pudding stomping over and started berating and ranting towards Koala about Ace’s behaviour and how it will reflects poorly on Sanji’s establishment when there’s nothing wrong with it. Koala, instead of defending Ace like she did yesterday, simply ignored her until the pigtailed girl was calmed and pulled aside by Sanji himself. With the other two gone, the pink-clad girl shuffled by Marco’s side, and sighed, “He… Maybe Sabo’s right. He should’ve told you instead of doing all of this,”

 

“What… what went wrong? Did i… Did i mess that one up—“

 

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” Koala reassured him, but even her word wasn’t enough to convince him. She probably realized this, because she sighed again, glancing to the direction of the door where the two men left, and spoke in a softer volume, “He didn’t want to tell you this. Not before he can eat something you made. It’s why he kept coming in here, in hopes that one day he’d be able to overcome his own condition,”

 

A sense of trepidation filled the pit of Marco’s stomach, “Condition?”

 

Koala nodded, “Ace has dysgeusia. It’s a disorder that altered his sense of taste and with him, it made even the smallest hint of sugar to be foul and often made him vomit,” the sigh she gave out this time was rather sad, and it was filled with pity, “He can’t eat desserts and never should be anywhere near one in the first place,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert joke about Ace gagging on lava before seeing myself out and crying myself to sleep*
> 
> Dysgeusia, based on what i read and first inspired me to make this fic, is basically a disorder that caused you to have an altered tastebuds. Most of it seems to be that whatever you ate tasted metallic (think blood), or sometimes it just tasted like something else completely, mostly horrible. They can affect every food you eat, or just specific food with specific taste. They’re usually caused by some other sickness, but some people had it with no reason at all. Lessened sense on the tastebuds are called hypogeusia, while no tastebuds at all (you can’t taste anything) is ageusia. In this fic, Ace had sweet dysgeusia, which basically only correspond to sweet taste.
> 
> That’s the gist of it. In real life, dysgeusia isn’t quite bad per se, as in it doesn’t make you vomit or sick unless you’re really sensitive. A lot of the things describe here is just purely made for fic purposes so its artistic license at its best. I might be way off course, because i only read about it in a magazine article and looking through wikipedia, so if this is inaccurate or just plain way off base, then i apologize. 
> 
> Tomorrow’s the last update for this and soon, after i’m back from out of town, i will update my other fics! Please tell me what you think so far, if i’m rushing if there’s really something that i missed (because yeah, i was rushing to meet the deadline for this but… damn) Till then, see you and thank you so much for reading this far! I hope you liked it!


	4. Savoury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'd enjoy!

 

“Dooo you like anybody?”

 

It wasn’t just the question and the delivery of said question that inwardly killed Marco, it was also the fact that just second prior to that question escaping Thatch, he had unceremoniously plopped himself on the sofa right next to Marco, lying on his front with his arms supporting his chin and both of his legs swinging behind him, and to top it all off, started batting his eyelashes.

 

Suffice to say, Marco is _disgusted_.

 

“Please stop, you’re scaring me,”

 

“What? I just want to know if you like anyone,”

 

“Thatch, we’re two adults living together, not a pair of prepubescent children having their first sleepover,” to make his point, the blonde propped his leg up higher, along with the book he rested on his lap, “Now please, i’m trying to read,”

 

But it would not be Thatch if he gave up that easily. The pompadoured man scooted closer, and with every inch he gain, the more Marco’s eyebrows twitched, “But we’re brothers, though. Brothers talks about these sort of things all the time,”

 

“Jozu, Vista, Blamenco, Rakuyo, Namur, Blenheim, Curiel, Kingdew, Atmos, Jiru, and Fossa never talked to me about that sort of thing,”

 

Thatch opened his mouth to protest, then he closed it before opening it again, “You missed Haruta and Izou,”

 

Marco gave him a baleful stare, “I wonder why,”

 

“Fine,” Thatch lifted both of his hands, and Marco was about to sigh in relief when he continued, “Well, what do you look for in a significant other, then?”

 

“Are you really doing this? Now? When i’m trying to finish my book?”And the book had been an exceptionally good one that he had been immersed with for the last 3 days. Then again, even if his reading choice at the time had been less than stellar, Marco would still give the same protest, anything to save himself from the impending topic of conversation, “And i don’t look for anything, since i’m not looking for a significant other,”

 

“But you haven’t been on a date for ages!” the constant interruptor of Marco’s time to relax insisted, “In fact, i don’t think you’ve ever been on a date ever. That’s no way to live, Marco!”

 

“When’s the last time have _you_ been on one?”

 

Thatch opened his mouth confidently, probably thinking he had an answer before he slowly faltered. Marco didn’t even deign this with a reply, other than going back to his book.

 

He made it through one paragraph describing an inner conflict with the eldest of the three protagonist in the book, when the sofa shifted again, “Alright, i’m going to let it slip that you tried to purposefully remind me of my own dry spell to make me leave,” Thatch began, and Marco stifled the groan bubbling in his throat because he knows that tone. It’s the tone that his brother-cum-roommate would always use when he had some harebrained idea or another, which Marco knew from personal experience he will suffer the consequences later on, “I met a guy,”

 

“Congratulations,”

 

“It’s not like that, will you please listen to me before making smartass quips?” Marco complied, only because Thatch hadn’t commented on the very obvious fact that he’s more interested with the development between the eldest protagonist and his avian-hybrid mentor’s relationship than actually listening, “Anyway, i met this guy at my work, and i am 100% percent, perfectly, absolutely sure that he’s your type,”

 

“You told me several times that that kid boss of yours is an even bigger womanizer than you are,” And if you already know what my type is supposed to be, why did you even ask? Marco would’ve added, though he figured that one would invite another bouts of unnecessary argument.

 

“No, no, not him, now shush,” The sofa shifted again when Thatch sidled next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder with a mighty big grin on his face, “He’s pretty young, with these expressive eyes, dark, wavy hair, freckles to die for and he’s cut as all heck. And his smile! Damn, you should’ve seen him when he smile or laugh, it’s so goddamn precious. Got a wicked sense of humour too,”

 

“For the last time, Thatch, when someone laughs at your joke, usually they’re laughing _at_ you, not _with_ you,”

 

Thatch shushed him with a finger that nearly poked Marco’s eyes out, and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “So i told him a little bit about you,” and by a ‘little bit’, Marco knew that Thatch meant he practically told whoever this poor guys is Marco’s entire autobiography, probably highly edited to either shine a more positive or negative light on him, depending on his brother’s purpose “And guess what? When i asked if he’s interested to meet you today, he said yes!”

 

Again, Marco tried to reign in the exasperation over these seemingly endless effort from Thatch to get him a date, “I’ll be sure to properly apologize for whatever false advertisement you’ve been giving him then. Though, he probably only said that because you won’t stop pestering him,”

 

“Oh come on, why do you have to be such a downer? I swear i told him the truth, and he seems genuinely interested in you!”

 

“Look, even if he turns out he is,” And Marco highly doubted it, “What do you want me to do about this? Cause for one, _i’m_ not interested in meeting anyone,”

 

The look on Thatch’s face showed he hadn’t considered that possibility just yet, but before Marco could return to his book, he spoke again, “B-but, don’t you want to have someone with you? Someone to share your life with, your joy and sadness and all sorts of life experiences?”

 

Marco glanced at him with a meaningful look, “Yeah. Which is what i’ve been doing for the last couple of decades with you,”

 

“I don’t mean like family!” Thatch insisted again, though by the brief smile that he gave out before he denied it told Marco that he was pleased by that, “I mean someone else, in a romantic sense! Besides, i might not always going to be there for you, you know? What if i found someone? Or, or need to move away?” He paused, and said in the saddest, most fake tone he could muster, “What if i suddenly died, Marco?”

 

The blonde sighed wearily, “You’re not going to die soon, Thatch,”

 

“I hope not, because i plan to see you finally get hitched first,”

 

“You probably just found the secret to immortality,”

 

“Ay, careful, or i’m going to haunt you from beyond the grave to still matchmake you with someone, and you will have a ghost wingman instead of a living one. Do you want a ghost wingman, Marco? Do you?” Marco preferred not to answer, because he has learned through his entire life to never follow up with Thatch’s most ridiculous ideas and imaginations or else, he’d regret it, “Well, anyway, i also told him that you’re actually pretty awkward and kind of useless when it comes to romance—“

 

“Did you really got him interested with that sort of description about me?”

 

“—Yes i did, now shush, i swear to god. And so i told him that i need to prepare you first to become a classic charmer like yours truly,” the arms around Marco’s shoulder tightened, nearly pulling him to the side if it wasn’t for his own resistance to stay where he sat, “Which is why starting from next week, i am going to teach you the most romantic gesture and skill of all: Cooking!”

 

“No,”

 

“Oh, come on!”

 

“No, no, double no, triple no, absolutely not, get away from me, i’m starting to lose my page,” When Thatch barely budge, Marco decided to sacrifice his comfortable spot on the sofa and made his way to his own bedroom, preferably to finish his book in a quieter environment.

 

At least, that was his plan, until he was a couple more steps away from his door and Thatch shouted, “The eldest brother died, the middle one killed the demon lord that killed him and the youngest one becomes king!”

 

“What?! No, what?! He died?! The eldest’s my favorite!” In panic, Marco quickly flipped the book to the very end and after a quick scan of the entire page, learned with dawning horror that yes, Thatch wasn’t lying. Even worse, the page he opened was the inner monologue of the eldest’s avian-hybrid mentor’s thought’s before an entire paragraph that held a clear implication that he ended his immortal life. It was all to join said dead eldest protagonist in the afterlife, however, which is he supposed is quite bittersweet.

 

But, still.

 

“Goddamn it, Thatch, you ruined the book for me! Again!”

 

* * *

 

He never did ended up finishing that novel. It wasn’t because the ending had been spoiled for him, but the day before the entire incident happened, Marco had reached the climax of the story, where indeed, the eldest protagonist was killed while protecting his younger brothers. It had been too hard to think about it then, and so like many things that belongs to Thatch, it collects dusts inside of the now long unused bedroom just next to his.

 

Though not for long, Marco thought, putting the novel back into a box filled with cooking magazines that Thatch used to collect and several notebooks. In random, he selected one of the notebooks, flipping it open to see that just like the last couple ones he had picked up, the very first page had a bolded writing that told the reader that this book will list down recipes that particularly used certain ingredients. Along with the recipes will be little notes from Thatch to remind himself how successful he was in creating it, and what to change should it be deemed a failure.

 

It was an odd system to work with, but Thatch was always dedicated to his craft.

 

Marco skimmed through the book and put it down to the stack formed next to him, one he silently dubbed the ‘read’ stack. 

 

With a sigh, the blonde glanced at the clock ticking on the kitchen wall, telling him that he’s been doing this for over an hour now. He was still dressed in the same shirt he wore at work, still with flour and other assortments of food ingredients crusting his fingers and fingernails and every time he moved, he can smell a whiff of the chocolate he spilled on his pants. It was sloppy of him, but right now, Marco could care less about hygiene.

 

The next book he picked up was a smaller notebook, and Marco had a clearer recollection of what this one used to be. If the cookbook on his coffee table was Thatch’s guide in everything that he knows, and the magazines were where he picked up a large selection of recipes and ideas from, then this is where both of that were amalgamated. It was dirtier than most, because while others were only worn by time, this one book had been spilled on, got various substances smeared on the pages and when Marco opened it, some of the pages were sticking close to each other.

 

It’s here, he told himself, gingerly removing each sticking pages carefully as not to ruin the writings further, it has to be here somewhere.

 

In the middle of his deep perusing, there’s a sharp vibration coming from his side. Marco glanced to see that it was his phone alerting him about an incoming text, and quickly picked it up to read the message clearer. 

 

_I really shouldn’t_

 

Marco clicked his tongue. He didn’t think it would be that easy, but right now, he needed it to be. Placing the book down and open on the page he had been reading, he quickly shot back a reply.

 

 _I won’t get you involved,_ he wrote, and when he receive no reply in the next few seconds, he sent another. _Please._

 

The reply came back, hesitant it has been their entire conversation. 

 

 _it’s not about me getting involved or not._  

 

Little dots on his screen indicated told him that the other person is writing another reply, but after waiting for a while, instead of receiving another text, the dots disappeared. The blonde waited for a couple more seconds, and when nothing appeared, he placed the phone down and wished for the best before returning to the book. Thatch had written a lot throughout the years, and some of the headings Marco could somewhat remembered having seen the final product. Some had been failures, many successes, but all has been done with great pride.

 

He was in the middle of reading through a rather complicated and foreign list of names, when his phone vibrated once more. The content was just a mere set of numbers, but it stunned him for a moment, before a large smile bloomed on his face. He quickly shoved a loose paper he found from the box between the page he had just opened and pocketed his phone, before hurrying to the living room to find where he had deposited his jacket. While he checked if he still got his keys in his pockets, his phone vibrated twice. Two texts.

 

_I’m leaving in an hour. Get here after i leave._

 

_Please don’t make me regret this._

 

Marco left his apartment and raced outside.

 

* * *

 

Remembering the building itself was easy, but what wasn’t easy was convincing the stern looking security guard that he needed to get to a certain floor while not having any access and being unable to call the tenant living in said unit he needed to go to. After being rejected several times and knowing when to back down before he was thrown out, Marco pulled his phone out and called the number he had been messaging, tapping his foot impatiently with every dial tone.

 

His call was connected after a while, and the voice that come through his receiver spoke in a hushed and panicked tone, “Why are you calling me?!”

 

“I can’t get through the security,” he told the person, giving the security guard a glance. The large man gave him a suspicious glare in return, “Said i either have to have a key card or i have to get someone to get me upstairs,”

 

The voice cursed, “Stupid modern security protocol,” there’s a shuffling somewhere in the background of the call, before the voice came back, “Fine, i’m coming downstairs anyway since i’m leaving. I’ll tell him,”

 

“Sabo, who are you talking to?”

 

Marco cursed almost at the same time as Sabo did when he heard the new voice filtering through the receiver, somewhere further in the background, “K-koala, i’m talking to Koala,” Marco held his breath at the very obvious hitch in Sabo’s tone, “I’m taking her out somewhere in a while, so i’m going to be home a bit late, Ace,”

 

“A date? At this hour?” Ace’s skeptical question was understandable, and Marco held his breath waiting for Sabo’s answer in a small hope that he’s not going to accidentally say something and gave it all away.

 

Sabo was evidently not very good at coming up with an excuse on the spot, because he spent several seconds making an elongated ‘eh’ sound. Even through the phone, Marco could hear the urgency and panic in his voice. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable crashing down of his entire plan when Ace’s voice came again to the phone, “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going with your girlfriend this late. At least i won’t have you buzzing around me every few seconds and driving me insane,”

 

“Hey, i’m just looking after my brother. Excuse me for being annoying,”

 

Ace gave a small laugh, “You’re excused,”

 

Marco chuckled at their interaction, ignoring the constricting pain on his chest. He remembered sharing a similar banter with Thatch, and concluded that this is something that all sibling, related or not seems to share. He ended the call while Sabo was busy asking if Ace wanted him to bring home something from the store and leaned against the counter that separated him from the security guard. By now, the man has lost interest, probably seeing that Marco’s going to have someone pick him up and won’t be his problem any longer.

 

It wasn’t long until he heard a light jingle from one of the elevator set on the other end of the lobby and Sabo came out of the metal contraption. They shared a brief glance, before Marco pushed himself away from the counter and walked over to Sabo to enter the same elevator he had just vacated. He watched silently as the younger blonde swiped his access card and clicked on a certain floor number, yet instead of leaving afterwards, he kept his hand on the elevator door’s frame, keeping it from properly working.

 

“It’s not just about Thatch’s death,” Sabo finally said after a while, playing with the hem of his sweater, “At least, it’s not anymore. If you don’t get what i’m saying, or you don’t feel the same, then i’ve made a big mistake, and i have to ask you to leave now before you make things worse,”

 

Sabo’s tone made it clear that Marco only have one chance to say the right answer. 

 

Instead of giving him an answer, Marco pushed his hand away from the door, seemingly startling Sabo. He gave the other man a smile, as the door closed between them.

 

* * *

 

Marco stood in front of the innocuous door, checking the unit number for the nth time since he arrived to make sure that he had the right one and took several deep breaths before he finally raised his hand and knocked on the wooden surface. With every hollow thud, he had to remind himself that he knows exactly why he’s here, what he’s going to do, and knows he has to do this or else, he’d never be able to anymore.

 

It didn’t take long for the door to be open and Ace poked his head out, looking confused, “Did you forget your keys or somethi—“

 

He trailed off, eyes widening as big as a saucer when he caught sight of Marco, and it was his body language and years of police training that told Marco exactly what’s going to happen next. In reflex, he jammed his foot inside, just in time to stop Ace from slamming the door shut. Of course, it was right at that moment that Marco was reminded that he wasn’t wearing thick police issued boots and just a mere pair of sandals.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Oh shit, oh my god, why would you do that?!”

 

Out of all possibilities on how tonight will go, this was definitely not in the agenda. Marco was not supposed to be jumping in place, wincing and hissing at the stinging pain that crept up from his foot all the way to his knee, and Ace wasn’t supposed to be panicking, screaming at him where it hurts and ‘oh god, i just made you a cripple’ over and over. The only positive thing that happened in this chain of event was that Ace’s door was wide open, and after a few more bouts of horror, pulled him inside of his apartment.

 

“I’ll get you the first aid kit,” the raven declared once he finished depositing Marco down on a sofa and almost on top of a burly Bengal cat that hissed and jumped out of the way, “Or do you need an ambulance instead? Is it bleeding? Is it broken?”

 

“It’s not bleeding or broken,” the older managed to get out, experimentally curling his feet in and yelping at the pain that suddenly shot up again. Upon closer inspection, he could see that on the patch of skin where he had been pressing his palm against was a large cut and peeled skin, where blood has begun to seep out of, “Okay, maybe it is a little bit bleeding,” 

 

Ace cursed again and left, probably to look for that first aid kit. The Bengal from earlier came sniffing around at his other uninjured feet, rubbing its tail against it before climbing back up the sofa. It let out a low purr, swishing its tail and looking curiously at Marco.

 

Marco, in return, could only gave the cat a pained gaze.

 

The resounding rapid footsteps alerted him of Ace’s return, this time carrying a large, firetruck red box on his side with a telltale white cross on the front of it, “Kotatsu, get away from him,” he shooed the feline away, though instead of succeeding in driving him away, the cat only moved away from pressing against Marco’s side to Ace’s. It kept purring lowly as Ace rummaged through the box, pulling out a roll of bandage that seems to have been used several times, an antiseptic spray, and a pair of scissors. 

 

In what seems to be a trained move, Ace lifted Marco’s foot up, close enough to himself while picking up the antiseptic spray, “This is going to really sting,” was the only warning he gave, before he applied it over the wound. It’s been so long since Marco ever needed to be treated, so he sure wasn’t ready for the sudden sharp pain. He hissed, trying to keep his foot from jerking away and hitting Ace. As if this entire situation wasn’t bad enough already. 

 

Kotatsu the Bengal cat has already moved back to Marco’s side when Ace finally finished wrapping the gauze around the bleeding, taping it expertly, “There,” he announced, running his thumb over the tape gently to make sure it sticks, “I hope that’s going to be enough,”

 

“It should be,” Marco told hi, experimentally wiggling his foot. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and he could feel that the gauze was tied tight enough he won’t have to worry about it coming off, “Thanks. You’re good at this,”

 

Ace snorted, putting back everything he has taken out of the box back to where it was, “When you grew up as unruly as Luffy, Sabo and myself, you kind of have to know how to take care of yourself. Even now, we don’t know when someone’s going to accidentally hurt themselves,” the little smile on his face dimmed a little, “Or, you know, gets visited by a guy who shoved a foot in on a closing door,”

 

Whatever friendly air there was suddenly flew out in a matter of seconds. Kotatsu let out a little rumbling noise, and jumped back down to the floor, right onto Ace’s lap. 

 

The silence stretched on, with nobody wanting to say the first word and the only sounds coming from Kotatsu enjoying the little scratches his owner gave to the underside of its jaw. It purred insistently when Ace removed his hands, before encircled both arms around the cat’s middle, pulling it close to his chest, “Why are you here?”

 

“Why did you do it?” Ace stared at him blankly, until Marco elaborated, “Why did you keep ordering and never eating those cakes?”

 

The younger pursed his lips. He lowered his head, low enough that the bottom of his lips was half hiding on Kotatsu’s mane while he allows the feline to start batting a paw on his hair and cheek, “I can’t eat them,”

 

“Because you have that disorder,”

 

Ace nodded, “Dysgeusia. Everything sweet that i ate tasted rancid, no matter how supposedly good they are. And it’s funny, because i ate a whole lot of everything else,” he smiled, far away and nostalgic, “Thatch asked about it, after he heard that Luffy and I had been kicked out of another all you can eat buffet for eating literally everything. When i told him, he told me he thought that i was just an extremely picky eater all this time, and regretted not knowing sooner,” the younger laughed against his cat’s fur, making the feline nuzzle closer against him, “He said he really wanted to see me enjoying something he made, because he really liked seeing people eat his stuff,”

 

The smile dimmed down, before it disappeared completely and in its place was just a painful mockery of it, “That was the last conversation we ever had,”

 

Kotatsu let out a little meow, a proper one since Marco first came when Ace took in a shaky breath. It sounded like it’s trying to comfort its owner, as if knowing the change in his emotion, “It hurts the first time i came back to the patisserie after 2 years, remembering that promise and my own promise to eat whatever it is he said he will make specially for me. So that’s why i came back the next day when Koala said she wanted to, thinking that after avoiding the truth about his death and ignoring it like it never happened for 2 long years, the least i can do for him was enjoy something he used to help make,”

 

Marco sat silently, the dull aching on his foot long forgotten as Ace let out a shuddering sob. Kotatsu meowed again, one paw patting Ace’s cheek and mewling pitifully when it received no reply. With a small, sad smile, Ace gently grabbed the paw and fiddled with it between his pointer and thumb, poking the soft little pad underneath the furry paw, “But i never could. Their smell alone puts me off, and that’s usually how i know they’re too much for me. A few days ago, i tried eating the strawberry, because usually they’re sour enough not to be as bad as everything else, but it was so sweet that i had to quickly leave before i got sick,”

 

Ah, so that’s what happened to the Crepe Cake’s strawberry.

 

“You know he would’ve understood, right? He wouldn’t want you to keep pushing yourself,”

 

Ace gave him a thin smile, “I know,” he paused, and from behind the locks that fell over his eyes, he peeked towards Marco, “But our promise was not the only reason i keep coming back,”

 

Marco felt his face slackened into astonishment, and found himself staring. He kept on staring as the younger finally looked away, sighing wearily, “But i’m not expecting much, especially not now,” he let out a short but painful chuckle, his breath hitching in the middle of it, “Why would you want to have anything to do with me? I wasted your time, i wasted your effort, hell, i basically insulted your brother’s legacy for so long and you even saw me doing it. Thatch’s biggest pride, and i threw it up like it was trash,”

 

“But it wasn’t your fault,”

 

“Wasn’t it?”

 

Despite the cringing protest on his foot, Marco slide himself down from the sofa to the floor, kneeling down right in front of Ace. The younger’s eyes immediately went to his foot, which was pressed down suddenly by his entire weight, but he never get the chance to warn Marco when both of his hands were clasped into Marco’s own, their distance suddenly nonexistent that he’s forced to look at nothing but Marco’s determined gaze. Between them, Kotatsu hissed and jumped away from the suddenly cramped space, but none of them pay it any mind.

 

“No,” he told the younger resolutely, his tone leaving no room for argument, “But if that’s truly what you feel, then i can’t stop you,”

 

He clasped Ace’s hand tighter, and after a while, felt them relaxed in his hold, as if surrendering himself to this predicament, “What i can do now, is ask you not to give up just yet and give me another chance,” Marco swallowed audibly, and when he opened his mouth, his tongue made a smacking noise, “Come back to the patisserie tomorrow, and i promise you, i’ll make you something that you’d like, something of Thatch’s that you can eat, just like he promised,”

 

This up close, Marco can see so many things he never get the chance to observe before. Ace’s eyes were actually a much lighter colour, made dark by the flecks in his irises. His hands might be smaller than Marco but his fingers are long, wrapping themselves around Marco’s own as he gradually relaxed. His eyelashes are long, flickering slightly as he closed them and when he nodded, there’s a whiff of something dark with underlying sweetness from his hair, which was ironic considering Ace supposedly couldn’t stand sweets.

 

As he looked back up, Marco noticed that should their faces be any closer, he might not be able to stop himself.

 

A pair of feline eyes kept watching, as they kept that position for who knows how much longer, only staring into each other’s unblinking eyes.

 

* * *

 

The rush was probably the busiest they had been in a while, since the news that an old favorite was brought back to their collection and is there to stay.

 

Molten Lava Cake made a steady stream from their display to the costumer’s awaiting hands, so much that Usopp declared right in the middle of peak hour that he never wanted to see or even say Lava cake again in his entire life. Yet not 10 minutes later, Marco overheard Pudding shouting in the kitchen, when she caught him sneaking one of the freshly made batch out of the kitchen for himself. He would’ve helped the poor boy from being terrified for his life, if only he himself wasn’t in the middle of helping a rather indecisive costumer who was 2 cakes away from just choosing their entire catalogue.

 

“We need another waiter,” Sanji moaned on his way into the kitchen, once the crowd has died down and most of their costumers were either seated or on their way out. There will always be people coming in again until closing time, but right now Usopp and Pudding in the front will be enough while he plated their last slice of carrot cake for the bouncy blonde girl who claimed throughout ordering that it’s her favorite because they shared the same name, “Ah, if only Nami-swan hasn’t started working for RipOff Bar, i would’ve asked her, but alas. Maybe i should start posting job vacancy in front of the window,”

 

He fell silent when he received no reply, and turned to Marco, the only other person inside of the kitchen at that moment. Marco was supposed to be here to pull out the chiffon out so they can garnish it later once it finished cooking, but the chiffon was already out, cooling on a decorating rack and out of its mould, while the oldest of Sanji’s employees was staring at a lit oven.

 

Marco heard him approach, and saw a thicker head of blonde peeking into the oven from his periphery. He also didn’t need to look away from the rising dough inside of the oven to know that Sanji already saw the old book on his side, and has also probably seen the header on the open page. True enough, he heard an exasperated groan, “You know, i let you do stuff on your own usually because i trust you and know you can do a good job. That doesn’t mean you can make just about everything in my kitchen on work time,”

 

“I’ll pay you back for whatever i used later,” 

 

“That’s not the pro—“ but instead of continuing, Sanji only sighed again, this time in defeat, “If this wasn’t in the name of romance, i would’ve put a stop to this. I understand wanting to do whatever it takes to make a beautiful _mellorine_ happy, of course. Except, well, you’re not doing this for a beautiful _mellorine,_ more like a bottomless pit who just happened to have a weakness. If only Luffy was like that too, then everyone’s life would’ve been much easier,” 

 

The book on Marco’s side was picked up, the pages making faint noises when Sanji fans through them. He then opens them back to a certain page, and nodded, “Good thinking, actually. Not really something our patisserie would put on display, but close enough,”

 

Sanji closed the book and puts it down. As he made his way to the kitchen’s door, he turned back again and asked, “How’s the foot, by the way? Still hurts?”

 

Marco kept staring at the oven door, and after a while, said, “Like all the doors i kicked down and ruined in the past came to exact their revenge on me,” 

 

* * *

 

Ace came exactly on time and without fanfare, as usual, only this time, multiple pair of eyes followed him since the moment he entered the door, alone.

 

Alone, because his usual company was standing somewhere to the side of the counter, hanging on to her boyfriend’s arm while chatting with Pudding about Sabo and Sanji respectively. Aside from the two and the patisserie’s staff, the rest of the place was empty, having been closed sooner that day for a ‘special function’. At least, that was what the excuse they told costumers and was written on the blackboard in front of the door.

 

Peeking from inside of the kitchen, Marco smiled to himself. He’s going to have to pay Sanji back a lot, but if this works, it’ll be worth it.

 

Understandably, Ace looked confused, looking around the suspiciously empty place, but when he asked, Sanji only told him to get a seat and stop asking questions. He looked miffed by the dismissal but did so nonetheless, picking a seat near the counter, where the rest were standing. As soon as he sat, Usopp walked over and placed down a cup of what Marco knew to be espresso, brewed from the fresh beans they just received this morning. It was bitter without having to be as disgusting as the one from the dinner before, and he could see that Ace seems to enjoy this one.

 

When the dark haired male started looking around again, Marco decided it was probably time. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the plate in front of him, specifically at the food that he had spent the entire night before trying to relearn how to make, and after plenty of trials and errors, deemed it good enough, “Please let this be good enough, Thatch,” he muttered under his breath, before placing the cover over the plate and made his way out of the kitchen.

 

The chattering on the side immediately died down when he came out, but Marco paid them no mind, his entire focus only on to Ace. He made his way over, careful with his injured leg to make sure there won’t be any accidents. When he finally reached Ace’s table, the younger was looking at him with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, and Marco thought that compared to his own turmoil, that was good enough for him.

 

He placed the plate down, and watched Ace blink at the cloche over the plate before giving out a little giggle, “That’s a little too much, don’t you think?”

 

Marco only gave him an enigmatic smile, before lifting the cloche up and revealing the content inside of it.

 

“I present to you, a specialty from our patisserie for a dear costumer who cannot eat sweets,” he announced, watching as Ace’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell into an ‘o’. Using this silence, he placed down the utensil right next to the plate, and just like he did the Lava cake, used the knife to place a single cut through the crust, making some of the content spill onto the plate, “Meat pie. Rich in flavour, filling and most importantly, savoury instead of sweet,”

 

It took Ace a while before he finally made a move to lift up a fork, and during that time, Marco moved to sit on the empty chair right across from his. He could see from the new position that everyone has left the counter and - judging by the little whispers he could hear through the silence - has migrated towards the kitchen. All thoughts of that was forgotten, when Ace finally pierced a piece of the pie with his fork, taking in crust and thick chunks of meat dripping with gravy and fillings.

 

“Although it was his job then, he didn’t just know how to make cakes and desserts,” he said in the silence, letting Ace continue to observe the bite-sized piece on his fork, “And it certainly wasn’t the only thing he taught me. Food, herbs, ingredients, hell, he even taught me about how to make noodle from scratch even though i can care less and only listened because he seems so dedicated in making sure i know everything he does. He used to work for Sanji’s adopted dad before deciding that making cakes for a small patisserie is a lot less stressful than working in a high tension 5 star restaurant,”

 

Ace turned away from the pie to him, still silent. Marco smiled as he continued, “No matter what it is he makes, however, it would always be made with love and with hope that the ones who eat them will enjoy them,”

 

The blonde clasped his hands on top of the table, holding tightly to ease his own nervousness, “And right now, i hope i have done the exact same thing,”

 

A smile bloomed on Ace’s face, sincere and affectionate, though nestled somewhere in it was a sadness that could not help but rear itself. Marco does not question why, not when he himself knows he probably had the same exact expression. Everything about this moment held a bittersweet reminder of Thatch to the two of them, a brother and a friend, and ultimately, a common connection that led to something else.

 

The piece was finally consumed, and as soon as the fork reappeared from Ace’s mouth, a quivering but undeniably happy smile bloomed on the younger’s face and made Marco’s heart skipped a beat, “It’s so good,” he said in between chew, “It’s so good i can eat 10 more of these,”

 

Marco couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his chest, which was amplified even more when Ace joined in, so full of joy and excitement. As their laughter died down, taking another one out of who knows how many other daring moves he had done today, Marco placed his hand on top of Ace’s other one on the table, “You can have as much as you liked,” he said in a near whisper, low that he knows for sure that even though the nearest person around them was too far to hear clearly, his words would only be for Ace and only him, “For as long as you wanted,”

 

He didn’t even have time to be hesitant or fear that he might have made a mistake in misinterpreting everything, when Ace’s fingers carded through his. 

 

From behind the supposedly thick and therefore soundproof door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the patisserie, there’s several loud squeals from obviously several different sources, namely, Pudding, Koala, and though Marco could be mistaken, Usopp. Not that he was paying too much attention.

 

He couldn’t, not when the taste of his own cooking and what was undeniably something uniquely Ace was still on his tongue, his lips still tingled over the contact and Ace was still looking at him with a deep flush on his freckled cheeks, starry eyes and a smile that promised him so many things to come.

 

“I’d like that very, very much,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it! That's a wrap! Take your food for here or take away, but we are done! 
> 
> It came out maybe a little rushed? Because again, irl and i'm literally leaving in matters of hours, but finally, done!
> 
> Happy belated valentine's day for everyone and thank you so much for your patience thus far! Thank you so much for the feedbacks, for following and leaving likes, and most importantly, thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this, please tell me what you think and i'll see you guys next time!


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is pretty much done, but an IRL friend of mine wanted an epilogue, saying and i quote ‘Where the good bits at’. As in… what is included in this chapter. So here, you go, a short epilogue.
> 
> You’re welcome, now stop blowing up my phone.

 

“No, no, no, you’re doing it all wrong!”

 

He’s your brother, Marco repeated for the nth time in his head, a less than potent mantra to stop him from taking his hands out of the gooey dough they’re buried in to instead wrap them around Thatch’s neck. He’s your brother, he’s just trying to help, and if you kill him now, the family will be upset. Probably.

 

“And what,” he finally groused out, jaw tight and lips curled downward in annoyance, “Am i doing wrong? Again?”

 

With the sound of tongue clicking, his self-appointed mentor appeared in his vision, taking the dough out of his hands - they made a wet squelching noise as they were separated from his hand and Marco winced - before tossing them from one hand to another, “This is not a good pastry dough, it’s too wet,” Thatch commented, frowning before tossing the dough back on to the counter top. It landed with a puff of flour smoke, due to the liberal amount of the white powder on the surface, “Did you put in the butter?”

 

Marco glanced to the blocks of butter on the plate next to his arm, “They’re not melted yet,”

 

“They’re not— You’re supposed to put them in while they’re cold!”

 

“But you said yesterday to melt them first!”

 

“That’s a different type of dough! Right now, we’re making pastry dough, you need them to be as cold as possible!”

 

“How am i supposed to know?! Why are there even different types of doughs, anyway?”

 

Instead of answering him, Thatch only let out an exasperated groan - oh yeah, like he has any right to do that after forcing Marco to participate in all of this - and shook his head, “Okay,just… just throw that away, we’ll continue on with the one i made for the next step. Obviously this is a bit too advanced for you right now,”

 

“I’ll show you advanced, you little—“

 

With how hectic their respective lives are, routine is something both rarely had. Such was not the case for the last few weeks however, ever since Thatch made it clear that he wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to teach Marco in the culinary art for reasons that sometimes escaped him. Every time he stepped into the apartment when Thatch was home, Marco would barely have enough time to close the door before he was dragged again to the kitchen and suddenly found himself reluctantly receiving a speed course about the variety of cooking techniques and an assortment of fancy looking desserts.

 

Which, Marco would admit, actually looked and tasted amazing, even for someone who is partial about sweets like himself. And sometimes, he actually felt proud for some of the results. He didn’t have the same deft hands as Thatch for all of this, but he could say that he did a decent enough job, and could even found himself relaxing after a hard day at work hearing his brother prattling on and on about the history of a particular sweet while mixing a bowl of chocolate and butter.

 

Not that he’d ever tell Thatch that.

 

And despite Thatch’s complaints, Marco actually did pay attention to his ‘teachings’, which is why when the pompadoured chef came back from the fridge minus the pastry dough and with a wrapped package with the tag ‘Minced beef’ written in a marker over it, he found himself frowning and said, “Meat? There’s a dessert that uses meat?”

 

“Well, if you’re creative about it. But, we aren’t quite making the traditional dessert today,” the auburn haired man replied as he undo the neat packaging and placed the meat on top of the cooking station. He threw the packaging paper away before turning to Marco, gesturing with grandiose to the fresh, pink pile of meat, “Today, we are making meat pie!”

 

Thatch grinned widely, eyebrows wiggling. Marco only stared at him uncomprehendingly.

 

After seconds passed, he finally put his hands down to pat it on the apron tied around his waist, “I just learned of a very important piece of information today, and know now that sweet desserts just won’t cut it,” he said, still grinning deviously as he always would whenever he thought he had come up with something ingenious, “No, if you want to win the heart of the cute potential date i worked so hard to get for you, you have to master the art of making savoury, hearty dishes,”

 

Ah yes, now he remembered why he’s being dragged into all of this: Because Thatch wanted Marco to impress this guy he met at work and want to introduce to him.

 

Against his will, mind.

 

“Now, i taught you the basics of sautéing and frying a couple of weeks ago, but this will be a little different, so pay attention,” while Marco kept silent and wondering why is this his life now, Thatch had gone and pull out his brand new pot. He strongly forbade Marco from ever touching any of his cooking equipments ever since he burned the last one - while frying eggs no less, something Thatch had told approximately everyone they know in revenge for the loss of his beloved pan - but evidently, that doesn’t matter now.

 

“We’ll start with prepping the vegetables. First, the onion. And don’t just stand there, come closer or you won’t be able to see what i’m doing!” the chef protested, expertly peeling off the skin of an onion before pulling out one of the slimmer knife in his collection. He points using the hand that held the knife, and coupled with the glint in his eyes, Marco felt a little bit threatened, “Who knows, maybe one day you’ll master this and you can uh, offer to teach it yourself. You know, the kitchen could be one of the most romantic places in the world,”

 

“Stop doing that with your eyebrows,”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Stop… wiggling them suggestively like that. And stop making weird insinuation about me and your friend, we haven’t even met yet. You have no idea whether or not this whole thing will actually work out,” Ugh, now it sounded like he actually wanted things to work out with Thatch’s friend.

 

Thatch grinned even wider, and despite Marco’s request, does not stop his eyebrow wiggling. It’s honestly starting to look disturbing, “Oh, it will. Never doubt my skill, little brother—“

 

“Again, i am older than y—“

 

“By a couple of months! But my experience in life has made me older than you by miles,”

 

“That’s not how that works. That’s not how any of that works at all,”

 

The ‘lesson’ that day took a while longer than usual, with Thatch repeatedly yammering about the sort of scenarios he can’t wait would unfold between Marco and his friend, while Marco tried his best to tune him out. By the time they are done, however, the blond had to admit that the meat pie was probably one of the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life, while Thatch was beyond exuberant, saying that he ‘have to give this to him, he’ll love it to bits!’. He, being the friend, supposedly.

 

While Thatch continue to stroke his own ego by claiming what a genius he is for creating the recipe, Marco continues to ignore him, sneakily smuggling out a couple more of the pies for himself.

 

(He never managed to give it to his friend. Thatch died 2 days later, and along with him, Marco’s happiness)

 

* * *

 

“No, that’s… that’s not how they’re supposed to look like,”

 

“It’s not?” Ace lifted his hands from the dough in confusion, looking at the milky coloured blob that he had been pounding with all of his might that Marco was honestly concerned for the table top. He glanced back to where Marco stood, lips pursed and both hands lifted high, fingers covered in clumps of flour and dough, “But i did everything you said,”

 

And Marco thought he did to, but then he had looked away to take care of his own dough and taking out the other ingredients they will need, and past experience told him anything at all could’ve happened if he left Ace to his own devices. He walked over, frowning at Ace’s handiwork before asking, “Wait, how long have you been kneading this?”

 

“I don’t know? Since you said you’ll get the meat and sauces out?”

 

Ah, that explains a lot, “It’s overworked. The gluten has developed on this one, and if we bake it, it will either be very tough, or the pastry will be very crumbly. Not really something you’re looking for in pies,”

 

Ace’s face fell, and Marco felt kind of bad for it, “So we can’t use it?”

 

“Sorry, i forgot to tell you,” Well, he kind of did, but then he probably should’ve been clearer when he said for Ace to ‘knead it for a while’. Ace had the tendency to be… overenthusiastic.

 

Still, he chuckled when the younger started staring at his hard work pitifully, and leaned over to press a quick peck to the side of his temple, avoiding bits of flour that somehow made their way there, “It’s okay, i made a pretty big batch, we can just use mine, okay? Why don’t we start making the filling for now?”

 

It was arguably easier to cook the meat and vegetables than it is making the pastry dough, and this time around, Marco made sure to keep an eye out as he gave out instruction of what to do when Ace refused to even let him touch the spatula, wanting to make them himself. So he simply draped himself onto the dark haired male’s back, one arm around the younger’s waist and his chin resting on his shoulder, quietly watching as the minced meat turned from pink to grey and the aromatic smell of beef and onion began to fill the entire apartment.

 

“That seems just about enough,” Marco murmured to Ace’s ear, using his other hand to gesture to the side of the stove, where he had placed the rest of the ingredients, “Now, put in all the sauces. Tomato paste, beef stock, Worcestershire—“

 

“Wor—“ Ace frowned, twisting his body slightly, just so he could catch Marco’s eyes, “What?”

 

“The brown bottle with the blue label,”

 

Ace did as he was told, pouring out the contents of each bottle and cans - with Marco keeping him from being too overzealous - into the steaming pile of meat, “It smells really good,” the younger commented while squeezing out the tube of tomato paste. Already, the initial squeeze itself was far too much for what the recipe called for, and Marco silently tried to salvage it by grabbing the tube away and offering Ace the stock inside of the measuring cup.

 

“Yeah, well, i wouldn’t doubt Thatch’s recipe,” he replied softly, before burying his face on the crook of Ace’s neck. Ace, in reply, tilted his head to the side so their heads bumped into each other, laughing under his breath.

 

Marco took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweat underneath the much more emphasised smell of raw dough, meat, and whatever else they had all over the kitchen right now. It’s not really a surprise, considering that they’ve been at this since early in the morning, but it made him feel calm and at peace, as he tightened his hold around Ace’s waist.

 

“Marco?”

 

The blond lifted his head, humming inquisitively when he suddenly he felt something cold being smeared to his cheek. He let out a strangled yelp, hand quickly reaching up to whatever it was that’s starting to melt down on his cheek and found that it was a messy dollop of tomato paste. In front of him, Ace let out a loud guffaw, head tossed back and entire body shaking in hilarity, “Your face!” he cackled, “You should’ve seen your face!”

 

“You little—“ In retaliation, Marco wrapped his other arm around Ace’s waist, mindfully pulling him away from the stove first before wiggling his fingers around the area he knows Ace was the most ticklish. Ace’s laughter died with a choke, before it became even louder as he begged for mercy, tossing from side to side.

 

“Marco! Marco— Stop! Wait! I’m sorry, pfft hahaha, okay, okay i’m sorry, i give up!” with a little bit more struggling, the younger twisted his body around, just as Marco pushed him towards the counter right next to the stove. With little effort and with Ace’s own help, he lifted the younger up to sit on the marble top, hands no longer tickling but simply resting on Ace’ slim hips and holding. Ace’s laughter slowly died, and when he opened his eyes, he gave a gentle smile that never failed to make Marco’s heart stutter even after so long.

 

Ace’s eyes darted towards his handiwork, and still laughing, he reached over to wipe it away with his thumb, “So,” he said after a few seconds has passed and his thumb came up clean from the older’s skin, “What’s next?”

 

“Well, we wait for the meat filling to simmer,” Marco glanced to the bubbling pot, making sure they really are save away from them, “And by then the dough should be chilled and rested enough and we can start baking in the oven,”

 

The dark haired one gave a small hum of acknowledgement, his thumb stilling once there was nothing else to wipe, hand still framing the side of the older’s face. With a smile of his own, Marco lifted his hand to cover Ace’s, turning his head just enough to press a closed lipped kiss to the flour stained palm. He heard Ace gave an affectionate laughter, and with his hand still in his own, spoke, “I could never thank you enough,”

 

Ace’s hand twisted itself to be able to hold his, tugging slightly, “This, again?”

 

“Not many people would’ve been as understanding as you,” Marco admitted, “Who would’ve wanted to spend their anniversary visiting a graveyard? For 4 years in a row?”

 

“Well,” he felt the body in front of him shift, and looked up to see that Ace had slid forward on the table, both legs trapping Marco’s torso and their faces so close to each other, “Us? It’s unconventional, but i like to think us as an unconventional couple. I mean, nothing about our relationship from the beginning is in any way conventional, you know?”

 

Marco snorted, silently in agreement.

 

Ace leaned down even further, pressing their foreheads together, “Besides, i know how much he meant for you. I would know, since, well, he might be your brother, but he’s also my friend,” he gave out a soft sigh, voice barely a whisper as he said, “I missed him too,”

 

With a shaky breath, Marco closed his eyes and hung his head down. Ace would know so much more than that. He had seen through so many nights when Marco would wake up in silent terror, the image of Thatch’s demise never quite leaving him even after over 6 years. He would stay up with him through every nightmare, holding him through every tearful cries, never having anything to say but it’s okay because Marco never needed comforting words, he just wants someone to be by his side. Something Ace never failed to provide.

 

As time passed, things did get better. His nightmare would reduce in frequency, it became easier to talk to his family and friends about Thatch, and these days, he found that he could recall some of the better times with his brother without being reduced to a pile of regret and guilt. And through all of that progress, Ace still stood by him, an understanding figure with whom Marco could mourn and cherish Thatch’s memory all the same.

 

He felt the hand holding his slipping away, and not a moment later felt his face framed by floury hands, slowly lifting his head up to meet Ace’s gaze. There’s such a palpable concern in that stormy grey orbs that he loved, so much that Marco couldn’t stop himself to lean upwards and pressing their lips together.

 

Ace met his kiss tenderly, tilting his head and sighing a little.

 

* * *

 

“I think i ate the one filled with nothing but burnt meat,”

 

Next to him, Ace scoffed over fishing out the third meat pie from the plastic container they had brought over, placing it on the small plastic plate before putting it in front of Thatch’s tombstone, right next to the wine bottle Marco never failed to bring over, “Serves you right for distracting me while cooking. If you hadn’t kissed me, they would’ve come out alright,” he turned to the tombstone, and said, “If this pie doesn’t come out right, it’s all Marco’s fault, just so you know, Thatch,”

 

“As i recall, you kissed me back and was even holding on to my shirt, so whose fault is this really?”

 

It was surprisingly bright that day, that the usually eerie looking graveyard doesn’t look as creepy as they would this close to the evening. It’s just as quiet all around them, with only the grave keeper passing by now and then to greet them on his way to take care of the rest of the tombstones, and what other visitors there tends to give them a funny look as they pass.

 

Marco supposed they do make quite an odd sight; between the pies, the wine, as well as the sitting mat they brought from home, it looked more like they’re having a picnic than paying their respects.

 

But he knows Thatch wouldn’t want it any other way. He never did like a somber atmosphere, and highly doubt he’d like it better in death.

 

“You think that with how he acted, Sanji would’ve end up with a woman. I always thought it’ll be Nami or Pudding, since he always seems to be even more pathetic around the two of them,” Ace mused, leaning his head on Marco’s shoulder as he reached over for another pie. So far, he had finished an entire container by himself, while Marco was still working on his 3rd one, “But at the same time, it sort of makes sense? I mean, he’s never as rough with Usopp as he is with other guys. Like he’s a dick to him still, but not as bad as to the others,”

 

Marco gave him a noncommittal hum while taking a sip from the water thermos, “Nami said it’s so obvious, and so did Koala. They still told me to this day i should’ve seen it coming, but i never did,”

 

“Didn’t you find out after barging on them making out in the storage?”

 

“Don’t remind me. Couldn’t look at either of them for days after that,”

 

After so long, this has become some sort of a rite. Visiting Thatch’s grave wasn’t an emotionally taxing chore, it has become no different than whenever he and Ace would visit Pops or Ace’s grandfather. In fact, between Pops’ tendency to pull out a new baby photo out of thin air every single time Ace was in his near vicinity, and Garp’s habit to challenge him for a physical fight after hearing he used to be in the law enforcement, Marco honestly preferred coming here.

 

It felt like visiting an old friend, bringing them souvenirs and little presents, and they would spend hours here talking about the latest news in their lives. After Sanji and Usopp’s unexpected love affair, they talked about Mayor Dragon’s attempt to run for Governor after the end of his term next year, about Luffy’s various misadventures since Sanji hired him as a waiter due to _Mr. Prince’s Patisserie’s_ increasing popularity, about Ace’s co-worker, Eustass, who he still suspect is stalking the tattooed doctor with dour attitude from the hospital near the fire station where he worked and whether or not it’s a crime, to just about any topic that came up to their minds.

 

“You were right, i shouldn’t have doubted you, Thatch,” Marco whispered as he gently pushed away a stray strand of hair from Ace’s sleeping face on his shoulder, smiling when the younger kept snoring away. The three containers worth of pies were all gone, with the last piece still held in Marco’s hand, “He’s…I never thought i would ever feel like this for someone, or fall in love, but he’s everything i never thought i ever wanted,”

 

With a melancholic smile, Marco took a bite into the pie, savouring the taste of crisp pastry and rich meat and sauce. He chuckled, licking his lips after he swallowed and continued, “There’s not a single day passed that i look at him, when i realized just how much i love him that i wish you were here so you can tell me that you were right,” he gave a little choked laugh, his chest stuttering as he held back the strong emotion that never failed to rear its head whenever he stepped into this place, “Or that i can tell you in person how grateful i am, because in the end, you still brought us together,”

 

Marco pulled one of the food container over to put away the pie and wiped his hands on the mat, before glancing to Ace, who was still deeply asleep, “Thatch, did you remember once saying something about wanting to see me get hitched before you.. die? I… i wish i could’ve made that happen to you,” he reached into his pocket, where the item that has been poking on his leg since he brought it this morning before leaving was stored, “But i want to make it up to you, and show you this before i show anyone else, even Ace,”

 

The small box in his hand made a popping noise as it opens, revealing the small, shiny band nestled inside of it. Inconspicuous, simple yet its true value lies on the engraving etched inside of it, where his name is eternally placed right next to Ace’s.

 

“What do you think?” he asked while pointing the ring towards the tombstone, smiling almost embarrassedly even though no one is really watching him, “I thought of buying something a bit more intricate than this, but Ace always said he didn’t like extravagant things so i thought this one is a lot more fitting, right?”

 

The head on his shoulder shifted and Marco nearly jumped off his skin, until he heard Ace grumbled in his sleep and continue to snore. The blond let out a sigh in relief, but quickly pocketed the ring and its box again before his lover woke up for real, “I planned on doing it tonight,” he finally said again, “After this, we’re planning to go to this little riverside we went to on our first date, and back home, i promised to make him steaks for dinner. I’m thinking prime cut, rubbed with salt and pepper, seared with olive oil, some butter, some garlic, some thyme. I think you would have approved,”

 

He glanced to his side, noting that Ace hadn’t stir even a little. He learned only in weeks after they started dating that aside from his dysgeusia, Ace is narcoleptic. Unlike his taste buds, his chaotic sleeping cycle was still easily controlled by medication, but there are still moments like this when he would doze for a moment or longer, depending on the situation and his health. Right now, Marco couldn’t really tell if he fell asleep because of his disorder or because it’s such a nice day, with warm breeze and cloudy skies, almost enough to lull him to sleep as well.

 

“I’ll pop the question right after we eat. Yeah, it’s nothing big, and i don’t even know if it’s actually romantic or not. What did you always say? That i’m probably the most romantically challenged person you ever met in your life?” Marco laughed to himself, rubbing the back of his nape. He fell quiet after a while, and asked in a smaller voice, “Do you think he’ll say yes?”

 

The wind began to pick up around him, passing by like a gentle stroke.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry i fell asleep,”

 

Marco shook his head as he packed away the food containers and sitting mat into Ace’s backpack, while he lets the younger finished up this half-eaten meat pie. Ace was always hungry after sleeping, even if he already have a lot to eat before he fell asleep, “It’s fine. Are you alright to go for a walk to the riverside, or do you want to go back home instead? We can have an early dinner,”

 

Ace shook his head, “No, i want to spend the rest of today with you,” he said with a smile. Marco felt his face reddening, much to Ace’s apparently glee, and continues on packing up.

 

Once he was done, Ace stood up first, approaching the tombstone and kneeling in front of it, just behind the plate of pie and the wine bottle they left behind. He placed his hand on the arching top, caressing the hard surface, “We’ll see you soon, Thatch. Hope you liked the pie,”

 

It’s a silly notion of course, that Thatch would. And yet, hearing and watching that, Marco felt nothing but swelling affection in his chest, and he reached into his pocket, knowing for sure there is no doubt he made the right decision.

 

He just hoped that Ace thinks the same.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

“After you,”

 

As the two figure walked away, hand in hand and smiling to each other, behind them, a phantom laughed happily and approvingly, eating a piece of perfectly baked meat pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, i don't know either.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, at least?

**Author's Note:**

> Mellorine is apparently fat to use in ice cream to replace milk fat. I don't know what to do with that revelation.
> 
> I hope i'll finish this by the 14th so i'll be sure to update every day! 
> 
> Please tell me what you think and i hope you liked it!


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